


The Stowaway

by the_razor_crest_lives



Series: The Stowaway Series [1]
Category: The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Eventual Fluff, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-11
Updated: 2021-03-07
Packaged: 2021-03-15 08:35:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 21,980
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28685712
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_razor_crest_lives/pseuds/the_razor_crest_lives
Summary: A stowaway is hidden in the vents of Moff Gideon's Imperial cruiser, trying to get as many lightyears away from a mysterious past as possible. When a Mandalorian shows up and her plans are ruined, she boards his ship as a stowaway. She quickly realizes that he is not who she thinks he is, and as she slowly falls for him, her hidden secrets begin to unravel.A Y/N Mandalorian story set after the events of Episode 16 of The Mandalorian.This work is completed! The next part of the series is in progress and updated every Sunday!
Relationships: Mandalorian/Reader, Mandalorian/You
Series: The Stowaway Series [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2139642
Comments: 2
Kudos: 42





	1. The Mandalorian

**Author's Note:**

> Some quick notes before you begin:  
> In this AU, the Razor Crest survived/was not blown up.  
> I highly recommend installing the “Interactive Fics” extension on your computer to replace “Y/N” with your name of choice. You won't regret it.  
> Happy reading, and May the Force Be With You!

It had happened. A Jedi had come and taken The Child.

The Mandalorian, once one of the most feared bounty hunters in the galaxy, sat in shock in the pilot’s seat of the battered Razor Crest. After everything he had been through, from the Watch taking him in, to losing his entire Mandalorian coven, nothing had ever affected him quite like this.

How did you know? Well, you were hiding in the vents above him, and had seen the entire thing go down. 

Weeks ago, you had stowed away on Moff Gideon’s Imperial shuttle, hoping to catch a ride across the galaxy. It was gutsy, you knew, but worth it if it worked.

To be fair, it would have also been fatal had you failed. Those Dark Troopers meant business, and not any kind of good business, like selling smuggled goods.

Hidden in the secret spots in the walls, you had survived on the shuttle by sneaking food at nights, meticulously counting the minutes between guard rotations to sneak out of the vents and grab some rations. Some poor sap had been thrown in the brig after being accused of stealing those rations. You had felt bad about it, truly, but you knew it was necessary. After all, what you were running from was much worse than getting thrown in the brig on an Imperial shuttle.

You spied on Moff Gideon for hours, at first out of boredom, then curiosity, then out of sheer worry for what would happen if he succeeded. You didn’t understand all the technical details of his plan, only that even though the Doctor, Pershing was his name, thought that the end justified the means, you most certainly didn’t even think that end was worth it. It was pure evil.

Finally, on the last week you were on board the shuttle, a small, strange creature had been brought aboard by the Dark Troopers. It was green, adorable, and looked completely terrified. You wanted to help it, but how? Any action would have alerted the Moff to your presence, the Dark Troopers would be sicced on you, and you would have died.

So you watched, and waited, and the poor thing had its blood drawn again and again and again until it could barely move. You cried silently in the vents above it for days.

Then, the Mandalorian had shown up, gotten his Beskar butt whooped by a singular Dark Trooper, and was willing to let the Moff keep the Darksaber in exchange for the creature, The Child, the Moff and Pershing called it.

You almost made a move then, knowing that the Moff would not so easily give up his prize, and you were right; he had attacked the Mandalorian. But the Mandalorian, to only your slightest surprise, bested Moff Gideon. You had heard him and Pershing speaking about the Darksaber before, and knew that Bo-Katan would be furious. So you crawled through the vents as fast as you could to the bridge, where the Mandalorian was headed with the Moff and the Child.

You were right, of course. Bo-Katan had to be loyal and high-and-mighty and not take the Darksaber without besting the Mandalorian in combat.

And then the Dark Troopers arrived back on board, and you truly panicked. You scrambled back to your favorite spot in the vents, grabbed what little, but precious, possessions you had, and booked it silently back to the vents of the bridge, praying for a miracle.

Just as all seemed lost, as you watched The Child, wishing to say, “I’m so sorry I couldn’t protect you,” he appeared in the radar scan.

That X-wing, with that Jedi surely aboard.

Why him, of all people? Why did he have to show up now? Surely he would sense you in the vents.

But he just looked at the Mandalorian, and at The Child for whom the Mandalorian had sacrificed everything. You watched the Mandalorian begin to take off his helmet to say goodbye, and you looked away. Even though you would never meet the man, you knew it was a grave offense to his religious sect to have a living being gaze upon your face. He did it for The Child, not you, not Bo-Katan, nor the others he traveled with, so you looked away. You looked away even as you sobbed as The Child was handed off from the Mandalorian, who had fought tooth and claw for him, to Luke Skywalker, the great Jedi.

After he had gone, you risked a look down through the vent cover through your fingers. The Mandalorian’s helmet was back on, and his companions were staring at him in complete shock. He offered the Darksaber silently to Bo-Katan, but she just stared at him.

“Take it,” he said, but she just shook her head, still wide-eyed.

You realized that Bo-Katan would likely take the shuttle back to Mandalore, and figured that the Mandalorian would want to get as far away from her and the bad memories he had just made as he could.

Kriff. Which ship to stow on?

As the Mandalorian walked away, you got this feeling, deep in your chest. You tried to ignore it, but couldn’t. You had to follow the Mandalorian.

So you scuttled through the vents back to the docking bay, to his beat-up ship. You managed to beat him there, though you didn’t know how. Perhaps he got lost on his way back, perhaps he took some time to take off his helmet in private and properly process the loss of The Child.

Whatever it was, it was kriffing perfect for you, because you snuck aboard with your little rucksack of possessions and hid one of the many nooks and crannies.

You heard the door hiss shut, then the thumping of the Mandalorian’s boots on the floor. What am I doing? you thought to yourself. The ship was tiny compared to the shuttle, with no vents big enough for you to hide in, and who knew how long you were going to be trapped in there with a deadly ex-bounty hunter.

The ship took off, the autopilot was set, but you had yet to hear the Mandalorian emerge from the cockpit. You dared to sneak up; the door was open.

He was just… sitting there, in the pilot’s seat, staring (you assumed) into the abyss of space. You snuck forward, trying to see if he was doing anything, and in your curiosity, stubbed your toe on a corner.

An involuntary “Kriff!” escaped you, and before you knew it, you were pinned against the wall by the Mandalorian, a blaster to your forehead.

“Who are you?” he asked. You could see your face reflected in his helmet. You looked scared, rightfully so.

You swallowed nervously. “Hi,” you said, “I’m Y/N.”

…

“What are you doing here?”

The blaster on your forehead was cold and unyielding. You knew that one wrong move would send a blaster ray through your forehead, and that would certainly put a hole in your plans (and your brain, but that was beside the point).

“I was a stowaway on Moff Gideon’s ship,” you said slowly, and the Mandalorian stayed still, the blaster still unwavering.

“I was trying to get across the galaxy,” you continued hesitantly.

“Why?” was the response.

Kriff, he was unnerving.

You took a shaky breath. “I’m trying to get away from something. Someone.”

“The Empire?” he pressed, and you quickly said, “No, no. Although I hate the kriffing hutt-spawn who still believe in it, like the Moff.”

The blaster relaxed a little, then the Mandalorian stepped back.

He asked, “How good are you with tight spaces?”

Taken aback, you responded, “I lived in the vents on the Moff’s ship for weeks.”

The Mandalorian just stared at you (again, you weren’t sure), then said, “You can stay. For now. I need maintenance done in some tight spaces that I can’t reach.” He turned away and sat back down in the pilot’s chair without another word.

You breathed a silent sigh of relief. That was more terrifying than the time someone on the Moff’s ship had walked into the restroom when you were in there and you were almost discovered. That had been an interesting conversation, pretending to work on the ship.

Who makes small talk in a bathroom anyway?

You glanced back at the motionless Mandalorian as you walked away slowly, then scrambled down the ladder to the lower level of the ship. You slid down a wall, breathing hard, trying to stop the adrenaline flowing through you. You could still feel where the cold metal of the blaster had been pressed to your skin, the way the Mandalorian had pinned you to the wall.

“I need to get myself a blaster,” you muttered to yourself for not the first time since you had begun life as a stowaway.

…

Some time later, you finished off the last of your meager rations and began to feel hunger setting in. The Mandalorian was still in the cockpit, and the last time you had checked, he had been fiddling with dials and levers that made no sense whatsoever to you. You had only briefly stuck your head into the upper layer, just to see if he had moved, then you had gone back down below.

Out of boredom, you explored the lower level of the ship. There were strange sheets of metal that the Mandalorian probably used when he was a bounty hunter to hold his captured bounties. You discovered a small room with a hammock which was obviously the Mandalorian’s sleeping space, and quickly closed the door on that one. No need to be meddling with his stuff, after all. But kriff… when you opened the door to the weapons closet… how could you resist?

You stared in awe at the array of weapons displayed. The sheer amount of blasters alone was enough to make you shake your head, impressed. You reached out to run a hand along one of them…

And a gloved hand caught your arm just before you touched the blaster.

“Don’t touch that.”

You jumped at the sudden appearance of the Mandalorian.

“Kriff!” you exclaimed, and the Mandalorian released your arm.

He handed a bowl to you, which you took on instinct. “I figured you might be getting hungry,” he said, then turned and ascended the ladder back up.

You stared at the metal bowl in your hands. The smell wafted up from the soup, and it was amazing. You drank it slowly, savoring the warmth in the rather cold ship. You figured the mysterious Mandalorian must get hot under all that Beskar, so you understood why it was so cold, but kriff, you needed a coat if you were going to be here for much longer.

Before you knew it, the soup was gone, and you were full once more.

You climbed up the ladder to the upper level, and, trying not to startle the Mandalorian, said quietly, “Thank you for the soup.”

He looked over his shoulder, then back up to the controls.

You tilted your head, a little annoyed. “Where should I put the bowl?”

“Just put it in the storage room,” he said without turning. “Behind you.”

He pressed a button on his wrist and the door behind you hissed open. You took another cynical look at the Mandalorian before turning and putting the bowl in the small storage area. Once you were out, the door hissed shut, as did the doors of the cockpit. A clear 'go away' from the Mandalorian.

Yeah, you thought to yourself, this was going to be a fun trip.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And thus it begins. I'm excited to share this story with you and I hope you all enjoy it. I will try to be as canon compliant as possible, but things may happen. This is the way (of fanfictions).


	2. The Child

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, the chapter titles are the names of the episodes of the show :)

It had been two weeks since you had boarded the Razor Crest, and the Mandalorian had become slightly more bearable to be around. He still sat for hours in that cockpit, no doubt thinking about The Child. Why, you wondered, did he give up The Child if he was so attached to him? Mando wasn’t a Jedi; he had no rules against forming attachment. In fact, it seemed that he had taken The Child as his own. Then why, you wondered again, why would he give up his child to Luke Skywalker, a Jedi, Mandalore’s enemy, whom he had never met before?

You thought all this while you were wedged in a tiny space in the generator room, feeling blindly for panels as Mando instructed you from the storage room.

“Unscrew the middle panel on the bottom row,” he repeated for the third time is an many minutes.

“I’m trying,” you said impatiently. “It’s kind of hard when you can’t see what you’re doing, you know. I know I’m small, but I’m still human.”

Silence from the storage room, then, “Just try again.”

You huffed before twisting the panel again. Your hand started to cramp, so you paused and said, “You know, Mando, this would be a lot easier with a droid.”

“No droids,” was the short reply.

It was getting hard to breathe, all squished up in the wall, so you shimmied out of the tight space, back into the storage room where Mando stood.

“Kriff, Mando,” you said. “Why not? Everyone has droids nowadays. Even some of the Jedi, I heard.”

He made a noise of discontent. “The Jedi?” he said, and you nodded. He tilted his head. “You speak of them like you know one.”

You started to massage the cramp from your hand. “I did, once,” you said.

Mando didn’t ask any more questions, so you didn’t ask any of him. You had resisted from asking any prying questions in the last few weeks, although it had been hard. How did he know The Child? for starters.

You sighed in relief as the pain in your hand finally faded.

“Let’s take a break,” you suggested. It was time for another meal anyway.

“We’re almost to Tatooine,” Mando said. “You can eat there.”

You rolled your eyes as he walked out of the storage room. Tatooine. A huge desert, from what you’d been told in the past. You’d never been, nor had you ever wanted to visit. You liked the lush, green places in the galaxy, not the dry, boring, hot ones.

Mando was stopping the Razor Crest there for repairs though, and he trusted a repair woman in Mos Eisley enough to leave his precious ship in her hands.

“Strap in,” Mando called from the cockpit. You leaned against the doorway, confused, until he motioned to the co-pilot’s chair. “It might be a rough landing. The landing gear was damaged back on the Imperial shuttle.”

You hurriedly strapped in as the Razor Crest exited hyperspace, and it occurred to you that this was the first time that Mando had let you sit up in the cockpit with him. You glanced over at him, but he was faced ahead, focused on the approaching planet. You watched as the planet’s surface drew closer, and suddenly, you realized how touched you were by the Mandalorian’s gesture. It appeared that, at least to the slightest degree, he was concerned for your safety after all.

Entering the atmosphere was rough, but the landing was worse. You could hear things clanking down below when the landing gear was extended, and as the planet’s gravity took hold of the ship, you began to feel sick.

Finally, after a thunderous landing in a dusty hangar, the Razor Crest was down.

You were sure you were turning green, so as soon as the ship was stable and the hatch was open, you staggered out onto solid ground, grabbing your rucksack from the storage room on the way out. Even in your muddled state, there was no way you were leaving it there. It contained every bit of material evidence of your life before, and despite the fact that you were on the run from it, you still kept the keepsakes as a reminder of what had happened.

Several eager repair droids crowded around you, and you waved them away, to no avail. You sat on the lowered door of the hatch and tried to regain your balance, trying not to lose the little food you’d had that morning.

“Dank farrik,” you could have sworn you heard Mando mutter as he walked out of the ship and saw you sitting there.

An unfamiliar female voice shouted, “He doesn’t like droids; you lot know that!” and the droids around you scuttled away in a hurry.

You looked up and saw a fierce-looking woman with curly hair walking out into the hangar.

“Sorry about the pit droids,” she said, then looked Mando up and down critically. “Where’s the kid?”

“Safe,” said Mando, and the woman nodded, satisfied.

“Who’s this?” she asked, gesturing at you.

Mando glanced down at you, then said, “She’s traveling with me for the time being.”

“Picked up another Foundling already?” the woman commented, and you were recovered enough to say, “I’m no Foundling.”

She laughed and said, “Well, I can see that. Much too grown to be a Foundling. Well, come on in and grab a bite to eat, introduce your friend to me, Mando.”

…

“I’m Peli Motto,” said the woman once you were all inside. “This Mandalorian here owes me for more repairs on his ship than I can count.”

“It wasn’t that many times,” Mando said.

Peli laughed and said, “It felt like it, especially having to watch those pit droids to make sure they didn’t screw up anything while I was working on the ship.

You were feeling alert enough from your bout of motion sickness that you were able to eat whatever stew Peli placed in front of you. You could also start to notice that the air felt dry and it made your skin itch. Your grubby clothes were already thin enough—add in a desert wind and you knew you were going to be finding sand in your clothes for weeks.

You hesitantly tried the stew. It wasn’t bad, but it wasn’t exactly palatable. Still, you weren’t in a position to be choosy. Peli was already halfway through with her bowl, and Mando sat silently, as per usual.

“So where have you been?” asked Peli. “What trouble have you gotten up to now?”

Mando said, “You wouldn’t want to know.”

You rolled your eyes.

“Well, clearly you’ve gotten into some trouble,” said Peli. “You picked up this one, after all.”

Mando inclined his head a bit, but said nothing.

Peli looked at you and said, “You got a name?”

You swallowed a spoonful of stew and responded, “Y/N.”

Peli raised an eyebrow. “Just Y/N? No last name?”

“Just Y/N,” you said, then forced down another bite of the chewy stew.

You finished and Peli stood. You and the Mandalorian followed her back out into the hangar, where she appraised the ship with a critical eye. She began talking to Mando about repairs that needed to be done, but it sounded like gibberish to you.

You walked up the Mandalorian as Peli finished her assessments of the ship and asked him, “How long exactly are you planning to stay here?”

“Only as long as it takes for the ship to get the repairs finished,” he said.

Peli chimed in, “Should only take a half a day. Damage isn’t too bad… this time.” She looked over to you and said, “When he came here with the kid the first time, his ship was a mess! I was surprised he got it here in one piece.”

You laughed, sure that she was exaggerating. Mando turned around and walked out of the hangar, and you ran to follow him. “Where are you going?” you asked.

“You need new clothes,” he said. “You’ve been wearing the same thing for weeks.”

“Months, actually,” you corrected. Mando glanced back at you and you shrugged. “I was pretty clean up in the Moff’s vents. Not much up there but me. What, did you expect there to be womp rats in the Moff’s ship? I don’t think so.”

Mando chuckled softly, and you almost tripped over your shoes. You had never heard him laugh, especially not at anything you had said. The kriffing Mandalorian continued to be a nearly unfathomable mystery to you, even after two weeks on his ship.

He was right, though. You did need new clothes, moreso now that you landed on such a dirty, dusty, forsaken planet as Tatooine. Besides, your robes carried bad memories with them. You knew that to fully shed your past, you had to get rid of those clothes. And your shoes were practically worn through. They had been old even when you had snuck onto the Moff’s ship. You were due for an upgrade.

There was only one problem.

“How am I going to pay for new clothes?” you asked Mando, but he just kept walking.

“I have credits,” he said as the two of you walked into town. “You’ve been doing maintenance on the ship; consider this your pay.”

You were touched. “Thanks, Mando.”

He just kept walking. Kriff, this Mandalorian just kept getting more confusing. One moment, he was happy to pay for new clothes for you, then the next he was back to being a silent menace—although you stopped being scared of him after a few days of being on his ship.

Whatever, you thought to yourself. He was your ride away from your past. What more could you ask for? You weren’t going to be with him long enough for it to even matter if you understood him.

You followed him across town, past a cantina with a few people drifting in and out. You stared inside as you passed. You had never been in a cantina, and although this planet wasn’t your favorite, the idea of going in a real cantina did intrigue you.

“Keep up,” you heard the Mandalorian call back to you, and you realized that you had fallen behind while you were staring at the cantina. You ran to catch up, and you saw that he was standing outside a little clothing shop tucked into what was practically a hole in the wall.

Mando walked in and you followed. A small shopkeeper of a species unfamiliar to you bustled up to you. They ignored Mando like he was nothing out of the ordinary (everyone on the way across the town had been ogling his pure Beskar armor), and hemmed and hawed over your dirty clothes.

They left you alone, only to go around their little shop and pick out various clothes made of different fabrics, some of which you had never seen the likes of. The short little shopkeeper held the clothes out to you, and you took it hesitantly with a confused look over at Mando. He didn’t move. Laserbrain, you thought to yourself. Much help he was. The shopkeeper tugged on your sleeve and led you back to a cramped changing room. You rolled your eyes, but obliged them. Struggling even with your small form to fit in the room, you managed to shed your dusty robes, which you could now see were ripped in several places, and change into the nicer fabric.

You emerged from the room and the shopkeeper applauded. You ducked back into the room and came back out in your old clothes. When you emerged, Mando was paying the shopkeeper, who beamed at you, as far as you could tell. Their face wasn’t exactly human.

You and the Mandalorian left the shop, and you said, “That was… bizarre, Mando. And thank you for the clothes.”

As you predicted, he didn’t say anything. As you walked back to Hangar 3-5, you passed the cantina again. You knew you shouldn’t want to go in there, especially in such a wretched hive of scum and villainy as Mos Eisley. At least, that’s what you’d been told Mos Eisley was.

…

When you got back to the hangar, Peli was working on the ship, sweaty and grimy from her repairs. She was focused, and merely glanced your way when you and Mando boarded the ship.

“Here,” he said, climbing the ladder and going into the storage room. “There’s an empty crate to put the clothes in. Wash up as best you can here and we’ll go to the cantina.”  
He was halfway down the ladder before you processed what he said.

“The cantina?” you asked, rushing out of the storage room. “What for?”

“It’ll be a few hours before the ship is in flying condition.”

You tried to contain your happiness, but when Mando walked out of the open hatch, you couldn’t help but jump in excitement a little. You rushed to splash some water over your arms and face, changed quickly into the new clothes, and walked out of Razor Crest with a proud smile.

Mando looked over as you walked down into the hangar. He made a disapproving noise and you threw your hands in the air. “Kriff, Mando, am I still too dirty to be seen in public with the great Mandalorian bounty hunter?”

He shook his head. “There’s a new pair of boots in the pile of clothes.”

You gaped at him. “What?”

“You needed a new pair of shoes. The shopkeeper guessed on your shoe size, but they’re good at what they do.”

You ran back into the Razor Crest, kicking off your old shoes as you scrambled up the ladder. Sure enough, in the pile of clothes, was a new pair of leather boots that were not unlike Mando’s.

They fit perfectly somehow, and you marveled at the little shopkeeper’s ability.

You composed yourself before you walked out into the hangar. Peli leaned around the side of the ship to walk as you walked out, and she raised her eyebrows, impressed. “Well, thank the Force they fit,” said Peli, and you looked at her sharply. She shrugged and said, “No shopkeeper here does refunds,” before going back to her work.

You walked up to Mando and asked, “Are you satisfied?” with a sarcastic bow.

“Don’t do that,” he said, and you rolled your eyes.

“You’re king of Mandalore, aren’t you?” you said. “Shouldn’t I bow to a king?”

“I never wanted to be king of anything,” he said, and walked away from you.

You immediately felt bad, and jogged after him to apologize.

“Mando, I’m sorry!” you called after him as he walked toward the cantina. He stopped and turned back to you, and you noticed, not for the first time, a small silver sphere in his hand, which he turned over in his fingers until he saw you staring. He tucked it away, and said, “I never asked about your past. You happened to be present for mine. Leave it be.” You stood awkwardly, feeling as though you had betrayed what little bit of friendship you had thought was forming between the two of you.

But Mando chuckled softly for the second time that day and said, “Come on. I can tell you’ve never been in a cantina. I think you’ll like it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you liked this chapter! I'll be updating every Sunday from here on out.


	3. The Sin

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reminder: Spiced caf is basically just coffee.  
> Oh, here's some ambience that I love for the cantinas. Play both links at the same time, adjust the sound however you like. I'd highly recommend it.  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oGhzrhtriAY (cantina chatter)  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xsx05iGapR8 (cantina music)

You entered the cantina just behind Mando and the music and chatter immediately enveloped you. The Mandalorian watched you stop short in the doorway, staring around in awe. He had been absolutely right; you loved it. The music, the glasses clinking at the bar, and the dull roar of chatter underneath it all made you happy in a way you hadn’t felt in a long time.

“Come on,” Mando finally said, and you realized that you were still staring, open-mouthed, around the cantina. You both walked up to the bar, and the droid behind the counter rolled over. You found yourself not knowing what to order from the waiting droid.

Mando sat down at the bar and said, “One spiced caf.” The droid trundled away, and you sat next to the Mandalorian, carefully placing your rucksack on your lap.

“Don’t you hate droids?” you commented. The cantina seemed to be almost entirely run by them.

He didn’t say anything for a moment, then; “Not as much as I used to.”

The droid barkeep came back with a cup of spiced caf, and you took a sip of the hot drink. Kriff, you hadn’t realized how tired you had been. With no suns to tell time by on first the Imperial shuttle, then the Razor Crest, you had made quite an irregular sleep schedule for yourself. With nothing much to do on the Razor Crest, you had taken to falling asleep in the warm storage room on a pile of blankets you had found in a box.

The spiced caf worked its way through your system as you took another sip, careful not to burn your tongue on it. When you felt reinvigorated, you said, “Thanks for the spiced caf, Mando. I didn’t know how much I needed this until I got it.”

No reply, but that didn’t bother you. You were starting to pick up on his body language. He looked semi-relaxed in here, leaned back in his barstool, but he was still wary, which you gleaned from his gloved hand resting surreptitiously on his blaster.

Looking around, you took in the cantina more fully. A group of bug-like aliens sat in the corner playing cards. Another group of more human-looking folk were laughing loudly at a table with far too many empty glasses on it. A band played in a nook in the wall, and several tables were grouped near them, each chair occupied.  
“Is it always this busy?” you asked Mando, and he shook his head.

“Last time I was here, it was practically empty,” he said. “Although I’ve heard that it was even more than this popular in the old days.”

“You say ‘last time’ like it wasn’t exactly a vacation,” you commented, drinking deeply from your cup.

“It wasn’t.”

“Well kriff, Mando, don’t keep me hanging!” you said with a laugh. “Tell me what happened!”

He looked over at you, then shook his head. “You’re quite persistent, aren’t you?” he said.

“If I wasn’t, I’d be pretty boring, don’t you think?” You raised your eyebrows at him with a small smirk.

Another small shake of his head. “Fine. I’ll tell you the story.”

As he began to tell his story about the bounty hunt for Fennec Shand, you found yourself feeling lighter the more you listened to him talk. Even after two weeks together, you hardly heard the Mandalorian say a hundred words in a day, and here he was, telling you a story from his life, albeit, a rather shortened version, you were sure.

Why did you feel so happy when you heard his voice? He was just transportation, you reminded yourself. Don’t get attached.

Making a friend will be good for you, a tiny voice in your head said, and you mentally swatted it away. But the feeling persisted. You were beginning to regard the Mandalorian, although stoic and silent, as a friend.

You didn’t realize you had laughed wryly out loud until Mando stopped his story and tilted his head, clearly wondering what the dry laugh was about.

Shaking your head, you leaned into your caf. “You know,” you said, “I think this is the most you’ve spoken the entire time I’ve known you. Except maybe when I was trying to fix that kriffing panel in the generator.”

Mando regarded you silently for a moment. “You talk enough for the both of us,” he responded, and you laughed, for real. He was right of course; once you had gotten over your initial fear of being stuck on a ship with an ex-bounty hunter, and a Mandalorian ex-bounty hunter at that, you had started to try to make conversation with him.

It hadn’t worked at first, but eventually, you could get a few words of response from him. You started calling him Mando because “Mandalorian is just too long. Mando is much catchier… wouldn’t you agree?”

He hadn’t said no, so the name had stuck.

Here you were, two weeks later, having an actual conversation with him. You had gotten used to seeing yourself distorted beyond recognition in his Beskar armor when you spoke to him face to face (face to helmet?), and at this point, you hardly registered the armor itself anymore when you saw him. He was just regular old Mando to you.

“I have to talk enough for two people when the only other person on the ship hardly says a word,” you responded, then took a drink of your spiced caf while staring at him with raised eyebrows.

That earned a chuckle from him, and although you thought you were hilarious, you had been sure that the Mandalorian thought you were annoying at best.

You had made him laugh three times today. That was a win in your book.

“Anyway, where are we going after the Razor Crest is all fixed up?” you asked over the brim of your cup. You were content to just watch Mando fiddle with his blaster, seemingly subconsciously, as you waited for a response.

“We’re going to Nevarro,” was his eventual response.

You drank the last of the spiced caf and asked, “What’s on Nevarro?”

“Work.”

You sighed. He was serious again. You were going to make him laugh for real eventually, not just a little chuckle.

But the little chuckle was enough for you today. It seemed that the Mandalorian wasn’t a robot after all.

…

It was nightfall by the time you got back to the Razor Crest. For another hour or so, you and Mando had sat quietly at the bar, enjoying the ambience of the cantina.

You had started to get a headache from the noise, so you both left for the spaceport to see if Peli was done with repairs. She was just finishing up when the two of you arrived, and when Mando walked into the hangar, the pit droid nearest him collapsed into a little ball nervously.

“Get some rest,” Mando said to you, and you nodded wearily, your headache still increasing. Peli waved to you as you boarded the Razor Crest and said, “Take care of this guy, alright? He’s always getting himself into trouble in one way or another.”

You laughed, despite the pain in your head, and responded, “I’m sure he’s more than capable of handling himself, but I’ll try.”

She started to discuss the price of the repairs with Mando, and you headed into the ship, tossing your rucksack into the storage room before heading in yourself. Your little spot in the storage room was warm, which was wonderful, but as you bundled into your little pile of blankets, all you could focus on was the rattling in the generator room on the other side of the wall. You would almost fall asleep, then something would clank and your head would throb painfully.

Tossing and turning, you tried to get comfortable enough to fall asleep, but the noise of the generator room combined with the hard metal underneath you, it was nearly impossible.

“Hey,” you heard Mando say, and you opened your eyes to see him standing in the doorway.

“Hello?” you said, wondering why he was in the storage room. He never bothered you when you were sleeping.

“The generator gets loud, especially at takeoff,” he said, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. “You can sleep in my quarters.”

You were more tired than you thought, because you said, “What?” like an idiot, despite being sure you had heard him correctly.

He sighed. “Dank farrik, Y/N, why do you always make things difficult?” he asked, although it wasn’t really a question.

You sat up and as quickly as you could in your foggy state of mind, gathered your blankets and rucksack. Mando was already below when you got down, and he had just closed the main hatch, Peli Motto waving as the opening was sealed with a hiss. He pressed another button and his small sleeping quarters were opened.

Mando said, “It should be quieter in there,” then climbed the ladder back up to the cockpit.

You stared for a moment at the empty hold, then realized that Mando had called you by your name for the first time. As you hesitantly climbed into the small sleeping quarters, you realized how nice it felt to have someone looking after you. All day, Mando had been kind to you, getting you new clothes and boots, taking you to the cantina, and making sure you were comfortable when you didn’t feel well.

He was right, of course; the sleeping quarters were quiet and calm. A small hammock hung above you. You decided that you wouldn’t bring it up to the Mandalorian—it had probably been for The Child. Even as the ship lifted off from the hangar, with the door shut, you were hardly bothered. It smelled like metal and leather in the small room, and you realized that that was Mando’s smell, and it was familiar and comforting.

Wait, comforting?

Kriff, Y/N, you thought to yourself, what are you doing? You were planning to get off this ride as soon as Mando took you to the most remote place you could find.  
But as you thought about it more, and about how caring the Mandalorian had been in his own stoic way today, you thought that maybe, just maybe, you’d stay with him for a while.

After all, everyone needed a friend. Even you.

Don’t get attached, a voice in the back of your head said. You shook your head and laid down.

As you drifted off to sleep, you couldn’t help but feel warm inside as you thought about Mando.

Kriff, you were in deep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "AnD tHeRe wAs oNLy oNe bEd"  
> And thus begins the slow burn :)


	4. Sanctuary

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Honestly, naming the chapters after the show’s chapter titles is working way better than I thought it would.

From then on, you and Mando took shifts sleeping in the small bedroom, if it could even be called that, in the hold, the small hammock hanging as a constant reminder of The Child. You took your rucksack out of the room when you weren’t sleeping in there, though. There were some things you still didn’t trust the Mandalorian with. He was fine with you leaving your blankets in there, however, or at least, he had never complained about it.

Idly, you wondered if he took off his helmet when he slept, or if he just constantly had a crick in his neck from sleeping with a metal bucket over his head.

Not that you wanted to know, of course. That was against his Creed. You had definitely never wondered what color his eyes were.

You were wandering around down below when both of you were awake once when you saw a busted wire cover behind what you had learned were the carbonite freezing systems that Mando used to use for bounty hunting. Quickly, you went up to the storage room, grabbed the toolbox that you practically considered yours at that point, and jumped down the last two rungs of the ladder.

It took you several hours, but eventually, you had hammered out the bent cover and fitted it neatly back onto the wires, which you realized were horribly tangled. You sighed. Mando really needed a repair person on the ship. He was lucky you were handy with tools.

You hadn’t even realized how long you had been working there until Mando jumped down into the hold. You, elbows deep in wires, jumped. startled, and accidentally pulled out one of the plugs. At once, all the lights went out and you hissed a curse under your breath.

You jumped again when a small light clicked on not two feet from your face and you quickly realized it was the light on Mando’s helmet. He was crouched on the floor next to you. You hadn’t realized how quietly he could move when he wanted to.

“Kriff, Mando, don’t scare me like that. You might take the Razor Crest out of commission,” you tried to joke, but in actuality, you were just realizing how very close he was to you.

“What were you doing?” he asked, and you responded, “Untangling these wires. They were a mess.”

He turned his head, the light attached momentarily blinding you before Mando looked over at the discarded wire cover on the ground.

“You fixed this?” he said, surprise in his voice.

“Well, yeah,” you said, “It’s not like anyone else was doing it.”

He was silent for a moment, and you vaguely wondered if perhaps you should be trying to turn the lights back on. You were trying to focus on anything but the metallic smell of Beskar so close to you, but you were failing quite miserably.

Mando looked over at you, careful that the light wasn’t shining right in your eyes, and said, “Thank you.”

You managed to say, “You’re welcome,” before glancing away. That was the first time he had thanked you for something.

He turned so the light was again shining on the wires, then he asked, “Can you see?”

“Well enough,” you replied, and got back to work untangling the wires. You couldn’t even find the end of the wire that had come unplugged and turned out the lights, so you sat there, on the cold floor, in the dark, fixing wires in the light of Mando’s helmet. You were vividly aware when he sat on the floor that he was not a foot behind you. You could hear him breathing, deep and even.

You found yourself more than once holding your breath for some reason, then nervously exhaling. Kriff, why were your hands so shaky so suddenly?

“How long has it been since you’ve eaten?” the Mandalorian asked.

With how close he was, it sounded like he was speaking directly in your ear in that low voice of his. You repressed a shiver; you didn’t want him to think you were uncomfortable. In fact, you were quite the opposite, despite your nervousness.

You collected yourself enough to think about his question, and quickly realized that you had been working at this task for most of the day.

“I don’t know,” you confessed.

“Then hurry up with the lights so you can get some food. Your hands are shaking too much for you to do anything right now.”

Sure, you thought, hunger was the only reason your hands were shaking. Not Mando being so close to you in the dark.

You did your best to hurry with untangling the wires, but it took longer than it normally would have because you were shaking so bad. You were flushed, horribly so, and prayed that the back of your neck wasn’t red. If it was, the Mandalorian would surely see it, and that would make things horribly awkward.

Just when you thought things couldn’t get any worse, Mando shifted and reached around you to grab a wire that was hanging in your way. You froze—what else could you do? He was practically embracing you, although you knew he would never do that. He wasn’t exactly the touchy-feely type.

You realized that he was holding a troublesome wire out of the way, so you quickly finished untangling the last of the wires. With trembling hand, you plugged in the missing wire and the lights turned back on with an electronic whine.

Mando let go of the stray wire and drew back from you. You heard him stand behind you, and he said, “I’ll be back with some soup.”

You didn’t move from your sitting position on the floor until you watched Mando climb the ladder to the storage room. Even then, you could do nothing more than lay down on the cold metal floor. Why were you so shaken up by how close he’d been? You had just started to feel like you were actually friends with him. Maybe it was that.

The Razor Crest was the first place you had felt safe in the last two and a half decades. It was home, your first real one since you were four years old. And the Mandalorian made you feel welcome, like you belonged here. You were starting to believe that you did.

You heard Mando’s boots step onto the top rung of the ladder and you hopped up and went over to grab your soup bowl, shaking away your thoughts.

To your surprise, however, he had two bowls in hand. You took one so he could climb down the ladder, and as you sat on a box, he sat on the one next to you. You took a drink of the soup, and you heard his helmet hiss as he lifted it slightly. Your eyes widened, but you kept your gaze straight ahead, respectfully not looking over at him as he ate.

You smiled into your soup. He trusted you enough to lift his helmet and eat next to you. This was all the confirmation you needed that you were friends.

He finished his broth long before you did, and you felt comfortable glancing over at him, fully helmeted once more.

You noticed on his armor a small signet that you had never thought about before. It was clearly an animal’s head, but you were unfamiliar with the species.

“What’s your signet?” you asked curiously, sipping your broth.

Mando glanced down at it. “It’s a Mudhorn.”

You tilted your head, still unsure what it was, and shifted on your box, straddling it to face him fully.

He put down his bowl and turned his box to face you.

“You’re not going to stop asking until you hear the story, aren’t you?” he asked, and you nodded with an innocent smile.

He shook his head in the way he often did and said, “It was on the planet Arvala-7. It started as a bounty hunt, but there was no holopuck, just the last four digits of a chain code.”  
“What’s that?” you asked.

“Chain codes are used by bounty hunters to gain information about people. The last four digits are the age of the target.”

“Oh.” You took another drink of your soup, eager to hear the rest of the story.

“I was told the target was 50 years old, but when I got to the planet and found him in a heavily guarded encampment, he was only an infant.” 

You recognized his tone as nostalgic and in your mind, the story clicked into place with some of the things you had heard Moff Gideon and Doctor Pershing talking about on the Imperial shuttle. 

“Wait,” you said, putting your bowl aside. “Do you mean that that target… was The Child?”

Mando was quiet for a moment. “Yes, he was,” he said. “I was trying to get off planet with him after that, but some Jawas stripped the Razor Crest of its parts.”

You raised your eyebrows. That can’t have gone over well with Mando.

“We had to bargain to get the parts back, and a Mudhorn, a massive, violent beast, ended up rushing me as I tried to get its egg in exchange for the parts of the ship.” He chuckled. “The kid used his Jedi powers to keep the Mudhorn from killing me. I earned my signet not for killing the Mudhorn, but because I took the kid as my own after that.”

You found yourself with tears in your eyes. You knew that The Child meant a lot to Mando; you hadn’t realized just how deep their connection ran.

“I’m sorry for not saving him from the Moff’s experiments,” you said, the lump in your throat making it hard to speak.

The Mandalorian stiffened. “You were with him?”

You swallowed nervously. “I was hiding in the vents, remember? I wanted to help him, but—”

“You would have been killed.” Mando cut you off and his voice was kind. It quickly became stone-cold, however, when he said, “What experiments did he do on the kid?”

“I never saw. They drew his blood in the cell, but then they would sometimes take him away. I tried to follow through the vents, but I could never figure out where they were going.”

The only sound in the hold was the general noise from the generator above. Then— 

“After we get more credits for fuel, we’re going after Bo-Katan.”

You knew that Mando had left the Moff with the group of women and Boba Fett. You also knew that the Moff had told Mando that all he had wanted from The Child was his blood.

“Agreed,” you said, and Mando looked up at you.

You flushed under the sudden stare (even though you couldn’t see his eyes, you could feel that he was staring at you. Again, you wondered what color his eyes were). “Even though I never spoke to The Child, I felt close to him,” you confessed. “I was sure he knew I was there. He often looked up at the vents, and even though the Moff never knew I was there, The Child seemed to know.”

“He knew what the Jedi was before he was even on the ship,” Mando said. “It’s possible he knew you were there.”

“I promise I’ll stick with you until Moff Gideon gets what he deserves for doing that to The Child, Mando,” you promised.

“Din.”

“What?” You stared at him, unsure of what he said. Surely it wasn’t…

“My name,” he said, looking away. “Din Djarin. You can stop calling me Mando.”

It was all you could do to keep from staring, open-mouthed at him. Instead, you gathered yourself enough to say, “Alright, then, Din. I vow to help you give Moff Gideon what’s coming to him.”

“Good.”


	5. The Gunslinger Part One

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally, I can stop typing "The Mandalorian" every single time Y/N refers to Din  
> Starring chaotic bisexual!Y/N, who, before meeting the ultimate top, Cara Dune, thought she was a switch ;)  
> This is a long chapter... enjoy :)

“If you’re going to give the Moff what he deserves, you’ll need a weapon,” Mando—no, it was Din, his name was Din—said to you, standing.

You were still reeling from the revelation of his name, and could barely think straight until Din opened the weapons store.

“Does this mean I get a blaster?” you asked, hardly believing it.

“Yes.”

You moved to stand in front of the impressive array of weapons you had seen on your first day aboard the Razor Crest. This time, when you reached out to touch the blasters, Din made no move to stop you.

Taking your time, you ran your hand lightly along them until you reached one that just felt right.

“Can I try this one?” you asked, and Mando—Din—kriff, Y/N, get it right!—nodded.

“We’ll stop on Nevarro so you can practice, and so we can pick up a bounty puck. We’re almost out of credits.”

We? you thought to yourself. You got butterflies in your stomach, and quickly squashed them by focusing on the fact that you now had your own blaster. The weight was perfect in your hand, and when you clipped the holster to your belt, it felt like you’d had it there for years.

“Wow,” you breathed.

“Do you like it?” Din asked, and you looked up at him, incredulous.

“Like it? I love it—thank you.”

He climbed back up the ladder and said, “We’ll be to Nevarro in a few hours. Get some sleep while you can.”

… 

“Y/N, we’re here.”

You blinked, groggy, and quickly registered the bright sunlight streaming into the ship. Din was standing outside the sleeping room, made sure you were awake, and then walked out of the Razor Crest onto the planet’s surface. You ducked under the hammock, then exited the small sleeping space. You ran your fingers through your hair to get the tangles out as best you could, then put on your boots, almost falling over in the process, trying to ignore your grumbling stomach. You strapped your gun to your belt with a sense of pride.

You glanced at your rucksack, debating whether to leave it on the ship or take it. You steadied yourself and turned around, walking to the open hatch without looking back. It was high time you stopped being so attached to that little bag of reminders.

Holding up a hand to block the sun, you stepped out of the Razor Crest onto the volcanic planet of Nevarro. To your surprise, Din was standing there, waiting for you. His Beskar spear was strapped to his back, and he had his blaster ready on his hip, as always. You blinked several times to adjust your eyes to the bright sun as the two of you walked towards a township. You had never been to this Outer Rim planet before. Aside from the annoyingly bright sun, you rather liked it so far. It was warm, but not too hot. That was good enough for you. You would judge the town when you got there.

Din said, “Last time I was here, I helped a couple of old friends take down an Imperial base. I’m hopeful they’ll have more work for us to do.”

“Old friends?” you asked. You were almost to the town now, and could see two figures approaching you and Din.

“You saw one of them on the Moff’s ship.”

“Mando!” one of the people called when you drew near enough to each other. You could see now that there was a man, who had spoken, and a woman—Din was right, you had seen her before, on the imperial shuttle, helping Din rescue The Child.

“Marshal Dune, Magistrate Karge,” greeted Din. You wanted to step closer to Din for comfort at the approach of the two strangers, but you held your ground. If Din trusted them, you trusted them.

“Mando!” repeated Karga, and they grasped hands in a calm handshake. The Marshal—you thought her name was Cara—nodded to Din, then both she and the Magistrate looked over at you.

“Who’s this?” the Marshal asked.

Din said, “This is Y/N. She was camped out in the vents on Moff Gideon’s ship and snuck onto the Razor Crest.

“She’s with me,” he added after you got a suspicious look from her.

Dune and Karga both nodded to you. The Marshal then folded her arms—wow, she had some impressive muscles—turned to Din and said, “Well, it was nice of you to abandon us on the shuttle. Bo-Katan had to drop me off here on her way out.”

“Out where?” Din asked, and you listened, eager to hear where Bo-Katan was taking Moff Gideon.

“She didn’t say,” said Cara—kriff, you hoped you were getting her name right; she really was pretty.

Din turned his head, and Cara assured him, “I’m sure I can get ahold of her.”

“Meanwhile, what are you doing back here, Mando?” asked Karga. “And with a new companion at that?”

“We need work. We’re running low on credits,” said Din, and you noticed that he became far more professional around them than he was around you. He was more reserved, talked less.

The four of you began to walk into town, and you could have sworn you saw Cara wink at you. Did you like that? You weren't used to being flirted at.

“I’m surprised you’re asking,” commented Karga. “Last time, you seemed pretty reluctant to help.”

“Things have changed,” Din responded.

Cara leaned down to you as Din and Karga spoke.

“So, you know about the kid?” she asked, and you nodded.

“I was watching from the vents when Luke Skywalker came,” you explained.

“Clever,” she said, and you blushed. She was gorgeous, there was no denying that, with her wavy black hair and her knowing smile and her strong arms and—

“Y/N,” Din said, snapping you out of it. “Did you hear what the Magistrate said?”

You flushed harder. You were just embarrassing yourself left and right out here with these new acquaintances, weren’t you.

“A small squadron of old Imperial ships just landed where the base used to be,” Karga repeated. “We need to send someone to scout them out, see what they’re up to. There’s hardly any bounty hunters left here, and none of them are ones I trust enough to send on a mission like this.”

Din looked over at you. “What do you think?” he asked.

“Me?” You raised your eyebrows. “Sounds like a good time.”

Cara laughed, and when she caught your eye, she definitely winked at you.

Your nerves overtook you and you found that you couldn’t meet her eye. Any hunger had abandoned you long ago. You just prayed nobody noticed your reaction to Cara’s flirting. Teasing was all you needed today.

…

If the other two noticed Cara’s open flirting, they didn’t say anything, but you were sure Din would mention something once the two of you were alone. You would just have to avoid that then, at least until you two were off planet and far away from the attractive wiles of the Marshal. You would have bet credits that she was purposely doing it to make you blush.

The four of you passed what looked to be a cantina, but when you craned your neck to look inside, you saw a bunch of young children, learning from a teacher droid.

“A school,” you said, in awe. “I thought this town was full of bounty hunters.”

“Not anymore,” said Cara. “Karga and I cleaned it up, with the help of Mando.”

“I’m sure that’s a fascinating story,” you said, keeping your cool while talking to Cara.

She laughed. “It is, but you’ll have to hear it another time. For now, we’ve got work for you and Mando to do.”

“Right.” You put a hand on your blaster. “The Imperial squadron.”

Cara glanced down at the blaster. “You know how to use that thing?” she asked.

“Well enough,” you said. You had briefly used a blaster, once, and it was true that you knew how to use it well enough to defend yourself, but aside from that, you had no experience with a blaster. 

However, Cara left the conversation there, and the four of you approached three land speeders waiting for you at the opposite edge of town.

“We’ll take these out to where Mythrol is waiting for us in a bigger speeder,” explained Karga. “Of course, when we saw the Razor Crest in the atmosphere, we were only expecting you, Mando. Y/N, you’ll have to sit with one of us when we ride out to Mythrol.”

You assumed Mythrol was a friend of theirs, but that was last on your list of things to figure out.

“You can ride with me,” invited Cara.

You glanced at Din, but he offered no response. Taking what you hoped was an inconspicuous but steadying breath, you replied, “All right then. I’ll ride with the Marshal.”

The three of them climbed onto the speeders, and you nervously stood there until Cara said, “Come on, Y/N, what are you waiting for? Get on.”

Carefully, you climbed onto the speeder behind Cara. You searched for something to hold, and grabbed the handles on the side meant for securing any bags that one might take with them, but Cara laughed as she started up the speeder.

“You can hold onto me, Y/N; you’ll be most secure that way.”

With a blush more vicious than any you had experienced in a very long time, you wrapped your arms around Cara’s muscled torso. She laughed, and the four of you took off into the lava flats. You started to feel more comfortable as the lava flats flew by under the speeders, and you started to laugh with Cara. Her black hair was in your face, but you didn’t mind. Somehow, even though she lived in the Outer Rim in a little rundown ex-bounty hunter town, her hair still smelled good, like some kind of citrus.

How did she do that? you thought.

You were having a great time until the speeders slowed, then stopped, and you unwrapped your arms from Cara. She leapt off the speeder and you followed, mildly disappointed that the ride was over.

Din walked up to you, and you could tell he was going to try to talk to you about Cara. You didn’t want that, so you quickly followed Karga and Cara to the larger transport vehicle, which hissed open at your approach.

A blue, gilled person greeted the Magistrate at the door, and Karga said, “Y/N, meet Mythrol. He’s in my debt for… how long now?”

“220 years,” Mythrol said. He sounded like quite the nervous person, and his humidity pack puffed out air when he saw Din.

“Not you again,” he muttered, then turned back into the ship.

Din walked up behind you and you stiffened when he spoke, but all he said was, “I put him in carbonite not too long ago. He was on a bounty puck Karga gave me.” Then he walked past you into the ship.

You had avoided any awkward conversation, so why were you so disappointed that Din was being a little bit distant? You were happy, weren’t you? You had your own blaster, a beautiful woman flirting with you, and you were on your first mission with Din. What more could you want?

“Come on, don’t lag behind,” Karga called to you from the ship, and you hurried aboard.

…

“This is the old Imperial base, or where it used to be before we blew it up,” announced Mythrol.

“You blew up an Imperial base?” you asked. “You never told me that.” You looked at Din before remembering that the two of you weren’t exactly on the best terms just then, you know, since you were kind of trying to avoid him.

“Mando didn’t tell you?” asked Karga. He laughed and clapped Din on the shoulder. “Come on, Mando, don’t be shy. It was all you anyway.”

“Well—” Mythrol started to protest, and both Cara and Karga said, “Shut up.”

He obliged with a huffy sigh, and said, “Fine. Where do you want me to take you four?”

“Here is fine,” said Din, the first he had spoken to the group since you had taken off on the speeders from the town. “We’ll approach the squadron on foot.”

“Your call.” Karga then turned to Mythrol and said, “You, stay put, or I’ll have Mando put you back in carbonite.”

“No worries, boss,” said Mythrol, patting his humidity vest. “I filled up before I left town.”

You all left the nervous little person behind and walked across the lava flats to where the small fleet of Imperial ships had landed. You looked off to your right, down a deep canyon that ran hot with lava.

Cara saw you looking, and bumped into your arm good-naturedly as you walked. “That’s where the base used to be.”

“Wow. I assume the lava comes and goes, then.” It was mesmerizing. You had never seen lava in person before, despite the stories you had heard involving it.

“Yep. It wouldn’t have worked so well for us if it didn’t.”

You fiddled with the holster of your blaster and suddenly remembered that Din had been intending to teach you how to properly use it on this mission. All of a sudden, flirting with Cara didn’t seem so fun.

Your only friend in the world had given you one of his weapons and promised to teach you how to use it, and you had been ignoring him ever since.

“I’ll—I’ll be right back,” you told Cara, who cocked her head, but let you go.

Din was walking silently beside Karga, and when you approached, he looked over at you only briefly.

“Pardon us, Magistrate, but I need to talk with Mando.” You weren’t sure if Karga knew Din’s name, and you weren’t about to betray Din’s trust again.

“Of course, Y/N,” said Karga, who moved to walk with Cara, who was no longer staring at you curiously, instead looking ahead at the semi-distant fleet of small Imperial ships.

As you gathered yourself, trying to put together what you wanted to say, Din said, “So, you like Cara.”

You laughed nervously, and it was too high-pitched to be even close to passing as normal. “Now wherever did you get that idea?”

He was silent, continuing to walk over a hill in the lava flats.

“Din,” you said, voice back to normal, “I’m sorry.” You sighed. “I’ve been ignoring you because I didn’t want any awkward conversation about my… flirting—” your face burned, and you tried to ignore it— “with Cara.”

“Your… love life is none of my business,” he responded.

You coughed, surprised at his wording. “I wouldn’t exactly call it my love life.”

Din went silent, and you rubbed the back of your neck.

“Fine, then,” you said, frustrated by his lack of comment. “I’ll be walking with Cara, if you have nothing else to say.”

He apparently didn’t, and, as you had promised, you went back to walk with Cara, who nudged you.

“Mando being difficult?” she asked, and you forced a laugh.

Finally, after a painfully quiet few minutes, the four of you were close enough to the squadron that Din signaled for you all to stay silent as you approached.

Cautiously, you all walked, blasters at the ready, up to the ships.

“There’s life forms,” said Din as a warning, and the three of you nodded. You crept up until a blaster ray fired at you, and the four of you dove out of the way. As soldiers began to stream from the fleet of spacecraft, Mando, Karga, and Cara all returned fire.

You pulled the blaster from its holster and on instinct, fired it. It hit a soldier in the legs and he collapsed, but you didn’t dwell on it. They kept firing at you, so you kept firing at them.

In a matter of minutes, there were only a few soldiers left, and you heard a voice call, “We surrender!” from across the lava flats.

You all stopped firing, and Mando, all but invincible in his Beskar armor, walked to the middle of the lava flats between your group and the ships. He was met by a small man in a white lab coat, who disembarked from one of the ships, who looked even more nervous than Mythrol had been.

“Wait,” you said. “I recognize him. He was one of Pershing’s assistants.”

“Pershing, the doctor?” asked Cara, and you nodded. You had followed him and assistants via the vents plenty of times on the Imperial shuttle. You were surprised it had taken you even this long to recognize this particular one. He had been one of the more kind ones to The Child. You thought that perhaps he would turn on the Moff given the chance, but he hadn’t. You had been disappointed, but not surprised.

The three of you started to follow Din, but the remaining troopers behind the assistant raised their blasters threateningly. Din glanced back and held up his fist, indicating that you stop, so the three of you did. You watched anxiously as Din spoke quietly with the assistant.

You desperately wished you could hear what they were saying. Even though you were in a silent fight with Din, you were still worried about his safety.

Cara leaned down and whispered, “I’m sure he’ll be fine. He has quite the talent for getting out of sticky situations.”

You wanted to say, ‘I know,’ but you found that your mouth was too dry to form words.

Karga was muttering encouragements under his breath, as if Din could hear him. Cara was watching, rapt, and you… well, you were clutching your blaster so tightly that your knuckles were white as the bone under your skin.

Finally, after agonizing minutes of watching them talk, Din gestured to your group to come forward.

The three of you walked to him, and although there was still a knot of worry deep in your chest, you felt a bit of relief that the troopers hadn’t shot Din—yet.

“Stop, Y/N, you’re going to get shot,” said Cara, and you looked over at her, confused. You were barely a step ahead of her. It was just as likely for you to get shot as her. She looked over at you and although there was concern in her eyes, you could also recognize the want to be in charge. You realized that she was used to being in charge in this town, but when Mando showed up, Karga had given control over to him.

But you complied with the order and hung back just behind her and Karga, even though it felt cowardly. You wished to run to Din and sincerely apologize, not do the half-hearted ‘I’m sorry’ from before. But you knew it wasn’t the time; you just hoped both of you would be around after this mission for you to apologize. It was such a stupid fight.

The troopers suddenly raised their blasters and Din, with an edge of panic in his voice that you had never heard, turned to you three and called, “Stop! Stop walking!” His hand was raised with splayed palm, and your heart rose to your throat.

You all froze. All you could hear was your heartbeat roaring in your ears. There was more than one blaster aimed at Din, and although he had his armor, there were certainly more than enough chinks in it.

The white-clad assistant raised his voice and said, “We are well aware of the abilities of the Magistrate and the Marshal with their blasters. Put your weapons on the ground, slowly, all of you.”

As requested, you all gently set your blasters on the ground. You hoped yours wouldn’t get scratched up, although that was the least of your worries at the moment.

“We just want to know what you are doing on our planet,” called Karga, and the troopers bristled, blasters quickly turning to him.

“Whoa, whoa,” said Karga, raising his hands, and Din said, “Just stay quiet. I’ll do the talking.”

“No,” said the assistant, and Din turned on him.

“What do you mean, no?” 

The assistant straightened up, finding the grit to stand up for something for once in his weaselly little life. Where had that spine been on the Moff’s ship?

“We know of your quick temper,” he said. “The fourth member of your party will be your spokesperson.”

“Dank farrik,” hissed Cara beside you.

You realized that he meant you. Out of the all diplomatic talent that surrounded you in both Karga and Cara, you had been chosen to be the spokesperson. Cara stared at you, as did Karga, but Din said, “No. She’s innocent; leave her out of this.”

A dry chuckle from the assistant. “Not likely. And she’s the only one we don’t know for sure will kill us at the slightest chance she gets.”

“He has a fair point, Mando,” said Karga, and the assistant glared at him.

“With all due respect, Magistrate, it would be in your best interest to stay quiet,” the assistant said, biting the end of every word.

You swallowed nervously, but straightened. “I can do it,” you assured your group. You looked at Din, whose hands were clenched in fists.

“I’ve got this,” you said more quietly, in a voice meant only for him, although Cara and Karga could hear.

He was still, then he backed away from the assistant.

You walked forward, passing Din but not looking at him, keeping your courage up as best you could.

“Well then,” said the assistant, reaching out his hand to you. “Please join me aboard my ship, and none of your companions will come to any harm.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *“Sweater Weather” plays*   
> (I know it's slightly canon divergent, but even in canon, Cara Dune doesn’t exactly seem straight)


	6. The Gunslinger Part Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cara in Episode 12: “Alright baby girl, let’s see what you’ve got.” *anime blood spurts from Y/N’s nose*  
> !!Blood TW for this episode!!

“Well then,” said the assistant, reaching out his hand to you. “Please join me aboard my ship, and none of your companions will come to any harm.”

“No!” said all three of your companions, but you looked back at them sharply. They quieted, but their body language, especially Din’s, made it clear that they wanted to pick up their blasters and shoot anyone who came near you.

You turned back to the assistant, and, holding your chin high, said, “I will come with you. But first, order your troopers to stand down.”

The assistant tilted his head, and without breaking eye contact with you, gestured to the troopers. They lowered their weapons, and without glancing back at your companions, you took the assistant’s hand.

…

Inside the lead ship of the fleet, the assistant led you into an elegant dining room, a table fully set with shiny silverware and pristine napkins. There was food, too, and your hunger from earlier returned, despite the strenuous circumstances.

The assistant ushered the four troopers stationed in the room out and said, “Please sit, Ms…”

The doors hissed shut behind you, and you and the assistant sat on opposite ends of the long table. 

“It’s just Y/N,” you said. Although you had no last name to attach to the honorific anyway, you were uncomfortable with formal titles, even in the presence of a clear enemy.

“Well then, Y/N,” said the assistant, “it’s nice to finally meet the one who was living in the vents of Moff Gideon’s ship.”

Your jaw dropped and all you could do was stare.

“I suppose I should introduce myself,” said the assistant, politely putting a napkin on his lap. “My name is Teniel Versio, and up until earlier this year, I was employed on Moff Gideon’s Imperial shuttle.”

This was surely a trap. There was no way this assistant had known you were living in the vents and had not reported you to the Moff.

Teniel’s smile, however, looked genuine, and his words rang true with you. You were good at telling when people were lying, and Teniel seemed to be in earnest.

“How—how did you know?” you choked out.

Teniel’s laugh was both nervous and clear as a bell somehow. “Remember when you spoke to the woman in the bathroom aboard the shuttle? I’m sure you tried your best to make her believe you were employed on the ship, but it was rather clear to her that you weren’t.”

His accent was pleasant, and made his voice melodic. You had noticed that about him aboard the Imperial shuttle, but so many others also shared the accent that it hadn’t been what had made him stand out. No, that had been his compassion for The Child, even if he had never done anything beyond making sure he was comfortable when they drew his blood.

As you stared in shock, he continued, unconsciously moving the food on his plate around with a fork. “Luckily, she was part of a small, secret group, myself included, that disagreed with what the Moff was doing to The Child. We knew we had to stop it—we just didn’t know how to do it.

“That’s why we didn’t give you away. We figured that you couldn’t possibly be on the Moff’s side, if you were a stowaway on his ship.”

Teniel sighed. “So at first, those of us assisting Doctor Pershing sabotaged the test results of the experiments of the blood he had previously extracted from The Child. Then, when The Child was brought aboard, we began to plan in earnest how to save him from the Moff.”

You stared blankly down at your food, then anger overcame you.

“So why didn’t you?” you asked, staring Teniel down.

He broke your eye contact and set his fork gently next to his plate.

“We were betrayed by one of our group members.” It must have been before Din and Bo-Katan’s group had shown up and captured Pershing, you thought. You hadn’t seen Teniel on the ship for a few days before Din arrived. You had heard there was a brief fuss about something, but you were so worried about The Child that you didn’t bother to investigate.

Teniel continued, “He sold us out to Pershing, who packed us all in an escape pod and ejected us out into space. He didn’t have the heart to kill us, thankfully, and after a few days floating in space, starving and dehydrated, we were pulled into a planet’s gravity.

“The people there saved us. We borrowed their stolen Imperial ships, one of which we now sit in,” he concluded.

Your head started to hurt, and you massaged your temples with your fingertips.

“So you’re telling me,” you said, “first, that you knew I was in the vents all along, and second, you were actually trying to stop Pershing and the Moff?”

“Well, yes.” Teniel brushed his dark hair away from his eyes. “In fact, we covered up traces of your existence that you accidentally left behind before Doctor Pershing or Moff Gideon discovered them.” He gestured to the spread of food on the table. “Please take some. I hate eating alone.”

With a narrowed gaze, you hesitantly picked some of the more familiar-looking fruit from a basket near you and bit into it. It was a little tart, but the sweetness of it quickly came forward.

After you finished that fruit, you leaned forward, headache already receding. “Why the theatrics, then? Why waste your soldiers to get to speak with me, of all people?”

“Ah, that,” said the assistant, laughing nervously. “We got ambushed by Imperial officers as we left the planet on our Imperial ships. These ships showed up as foreign, since they’re rather older models, and they boarded us.”

You took a bite of a strange orange fruit, and it was even better than the last one. If this was how they ate in the Age of the Empire, then kriff, you could almost see how people were seduced to the dark side.

Almost.

Teniel shifted to lean forward in his seat. “Luckily, we were still registered as employees of Moff Gideon in their system, so we convinced them that we were on the same mission as them; to check out the destroyed Imperial base on Nevarro. We landed, checked out what remained of the base, then saw you four coming across the lava flats. Naturally, the troopers wanted to kill you four right off, but I knew I recognized you. It had seemed impossible, but you had snuck off the Moff’s ship and ended up here.”

“So were those your people who were shooting at us?” you asked, sitting back in your chair. You could still sense no ill will from Teniel, so you decided to trust him until he proved himself unworthy.

He shook his head, and, trying to restrain a smile, said, “I convinced the loyal Imperial troopers to stand outside the ships and shoot at you four. I knew their aim was worse than even mine, and I figured that if anyone had to die, it should be them. Of course,” he said, eyebrows furrowed, “I had hoped as many would survive as possible. I may have only been an assistant, but I still worked alongside a doctor. We were trained to keep people alive.”

You sat for a moment, processing the information. Teniel continued to eat, giving you time to formulate questions.

“I only have one thing left to ask,” you said, and Teniel looked up at you. “I understand that Marshal Dune and the Mandalorian can be quick to draw their blaster, but why not speak with Magistrate Karga? He’s the most diplomatic of us. How did you know I wasn’t like the Marshal? Trigger-happy, and all, you know, ‘shoot now, ask questions later?’”

“I didn’t,” Teniel answered. He set down his fork and knife and looked at you solemnly. “I had hoped you would be sympathetic to our cause.”

“And which cause would that be?”

“When the Imperial troopers don’t return with a report on the destroyed base, backup will be sent. If we can capture their ships, we can trace Moff Gideon’s shuttle and save The Child.”

Oh. He didn’t know.

“What?” asked Teniel. “You looked concerned. I understand it may seem impossible—”

“No, it’s not that,” you interrupted. “The Child is safe.”

Teniel stared at you. “What?”

You ran a hand through your hair and sighed. “The Mandalorian, Marshal Dune, and several others attacked the Moff’s ship. They captured Pershing, took down the Moff, saved The Child. It was a few days after you were ejected from the shuttle.”

Teniel was taken aback. He sat back in his chair, stunned.

Feeling uncomfortable, you took the opportunity to ask, “So, may my companions come aboard now?”

Teniel stood, clearly still stunned. You felt bad for him—he’d been working on this mission for months and only to suddenly have the rug yanked out from under him.

“Of course,” he said graciously, regaining his composure, and you stood as well. The dining room’s door opened with a hiss, and Teniel gestured for the people positioned outside to stand down. They moved aside as you and Teniel passed, and you thought you recognized a few of them as more of Pershing’s assistants. One of them was definitely the woman from the bathroom on the shuttle, and you looked away as you made eye contact with her.

You prayed to whatever deity or so-called Maker was listening that your companions had not been hurt by the remaining Imperial troopers outside. You knew Din alone could take them out, but you also knew he wouldn’t dare make the first move in case it would affect you, in case Teniel had indeed been hostile as the four of you had suspected, and directly retaliated to any harm Din had done to the troopers upon you.

The hatch of the ship opened, and Teniel walked out into the sunlight, with you close behind. You braced yourself, hoping that you wouldn’t find your companions’ bodies lifeless on the lava flats.

But to your immense relief, all three of your companions were standing unharmed. When Din looked up and saw you alive and unhurt, you knew, even though he wore his helmet, that you made eye contact. The relief that surged through you was overwhelming, and you resisted the urge to run to him.

“Y/N!” called Cara, clearly elated that you were not harmed.

You looked at Teniel, and he nodded at you, giving permission to go to your companions.

You did run to them, and before they could speak, you assured them, “I’m okay, don’t worry. Teniel—the assistant—he isn’t Imperial. Well, he’s ex-Imperial, but he’s on our side. He just wanted to help The Child.”

Din turned from looking at you to staring at Teniel, who nervously waved in a greeting.

Cara marched past you to confront Teniel, and Karga, after saying, “We’re glad you’re unharmed,” followed her.

Din caught your arms as you moved to follow, effectively keeping you out of their earshot.

“Are you actually unharmed?” he asked quietly, and you said, “I promise, Din, I’m okay.”

You glanced off to the side, then said, “And I’m sorry. It was stupid that I’ve been avoiding you.” You looked up at him.

He was silent, then he said, “What you do in your love life is none of my business.”

You sighed. “Yeah, Cara’s pretty, but she’s too controlling.” You thought back over the past few hours and realized that she really was too eager to be in charge. You didn’t like that. “I could never be in a serious relationship with her. Not that I have any experience in that particular area.” You flushed. You hadn’t exactly had any opportunities for romantic relationships in the past.

Din looked at you for a few more seconds, double-checking to make sure you weren’t hurt, then he released your arms and the two of you approached Teniel, Cara, and Karga.

“So, you think you would still teach me how to use this blaster?” you asked.

“Yes,” Din said, and although it was a simple response, you could hear the smile in his voice.

…

The four of you waved to the stolen Imperial ships as they took off into the atmosphere. Teniel was aboard the lead ship, ready to enact your plan.

The five of you had sat in the dining hall, discussing a plan to locate Moff Gideon’s Imperial shuttle. When you and Din had made clear your intentions of finding the Moff and giving him a taste of his own medicine, Teniel was immediately on board.

Cara had tried to contact Bo-Katan, but had received no transmission in return.

So you all had devised a plan. Like Teniel had said, backup would be sent soon to check in on the missing Imperial troopers. Teniel and his crew would allow them to land, and as Din, Cara, Magistrate Karga, and yourself hid over a lava ridge, Teniel’s ships would descend, ambushing the Imperial troops. Then, the four of us would rush them, blast our way aboard their ships, and commandeer them, using the data systems to find the Moff’s shuttle.

This was all assuming Bo-Katan hadn’t disabled the tracking systems. And assuming that she was still on the shuttle.

Kriff, so many things could go wrong.

The four of you ran to hide behind a nearby lava ridge, and it was just in time, as a small fleet of Imperial ships descended from the sky not two minutes later. It wasn’t Teniel’s ships, which were high in the atmosphere, so you held your breath, waiting for the hatch doors to open.

When they did, Imperial troopers marched out in straight, neat lines. You started to get nervous—there were quite a lot of them, and not a lot of you.

Then Teniel’s ships descended, and the troopers began to fire on them, the blasters getting absorbed by the forward shields.

“Now!” said Din, and the four of you raced across the lava field. Din stayed right next to you, and as a few troopers began to fire on your small group, he used himself as a shield to protect you.

You leaned around him as you ran and shot troopers in the legs, trying not to kill them. Cara and Karga had no such qualms, and troopers started to drop like flies.

By that point, most of the fire had turned to you four, rather than Teniel’s ships, so Cara and Karga dropped behind a small lava hill and Cara yelled, “Go! We’ll cover you!”

You and Din sprinted to the lead ship, and the two of you shot down every trooper who was waiting for you, both outside and within the ship.

You ran through the halls and eventually found yourselves in the bridge. The troopers tried to stop you, but Din had taken down half the room before they could fire at you. It was impressive, how fast he could move. You felt useless until you realized that of the two of you, you were by far the most tech-inclined.

So you ran to the control board and, typing as fast as you could, you started to input the command for the other ships and their troopers to stand down.

And then you got shot in the side.

You screamed and collapsed onto the control board. The pain of the wound shot like lightning through your body and when you hit the control board, the side of it dug into the wound. You struggled to breathe as the pain increased, clawing at the control board to keep from falling even more.

“Y/N!” Din called from across the room, fear—you realized it was for you—in his voice, and you saw that he had drawn his spear and was fending off troopers in close quarters while he tried to reach you.

“I’m fine!” you gasped, and tried to stand, fighting through the pain. The blaster shot had gone straight through your side, probably hitting plenty of important things, and had exploded against the control board. Thankfully, the board still seemed to be functional.

Unlike you, however. You tried to stand, but your legs were suddenly weak. You focused all your effort into staying standing, trying to ignore the hot stream of blood flowing from your abdomen. More adrenaline pounded through your veins, helping you ignore the agony.

You continued to type in the command sequence, hands and board both bathed in blood, and hit send, praying that it would work even with the damage the control board sustained.

“Kriff,” you gasped through tears and gritted teeth. Despite all the adrenaline flowing through you, you were still in pain, and a lot of it. As Din finished off the last of the Imperial troopers, you felt yourself collapsing.

He rushed across the room and caught you in his arms. You vaguely, through a haze of red-hot pain, realized that your adrenaline was all but gone, and as a blinding white overtook your vision, you mumbled, “I’m alright. I’m fine."

The last thing you heard was Din’s voice saying, “Y/N? Y/N!” as you drifted into oblivion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You didn’t actually think I’d let Y/N end up with Cara, did you? This is a DIN fic, not a Cara fic (although she could step on me and I would thank her)  
> Oh also--G*na C*rano getting fired? Amazing.


	7. The Prisoner

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You’ve seen BiPanic!Y/N, now get ready for Hurt!Y/N and Soft!Din because I’m a masochistic simp :)

You didn’t slip into full unconsciousness right away, as you had expected to, but instead were in a state of half-awareness as Din carried you out of the ship. You could hear Cara ask Din what had happened, and Karga’s voice faintly in the background. You were pretty sure nobody was firing at you anymore. Maybe they were. It didn’t really matter. You could see, as you fought to open your eyes, the blurry outline of Din’s helmet above you as he carried you in his arms. Giving up on staying awake entirely, you slumping into his cold armored chest.

…

“Y/N? Dank farrik, Y/N, wake up.”

You heard a broken voice near your ear. Was that Din? You weren’t sure. Everything sounded like it was coming to you through water, or some thick sludge. You tried to open your eyes, but your eyelids were so heavy. Your whole body felt weird, all numb and floaty. You just felt vaguely cold.

“Mm—” You tried to speak, but your face was so numb that you couldn’t move it. Maybe that’s why your eyelids wouldn’t open.

You’d try again later. A little sleep wouldn’t hurt.

…

Deep breathing. That was the first thing you heard clearly. You knew you had faded in and out of consciousness over the last while—how long exactly, you weren’t sure—but you remembered nothing but Din’s voice saying your name whenever you happened to stir.

Now the deep breathing. Was it yours? It sure didn’t sound like you, although it matched the regular rhythm of your breaths.

You managed to open your eyes part way, and turn your head to the side. There was Din, slumped over a chair next to you, his helmeted head resting on your bed. He was clearly sleeping, and you smiled wearily.

“Din,” you croaked, and a pain flared up in your side where you had been shot. You groaned, and Din lifted his head immediately.

“You’re awake,” he said, and when you nodded, he broke out in a chuckle, which built into a full-on laugh. His voice was broken up, and you suspected that he had been calling your name for quite a while.

“Well,” you said, “that’s not how I thought I’d get you to laugh, but it works.” Your voice was raw, your throat dry. You tried to swallow, but your tongue was cracked.

Hoarsely, you asked, “Is there any water?”

Din grabbed a pitcher of water from the bedside and filled up a wooden cup that sat next to it.

You tried to sit up to grab it, but Din put a gloved hand on your shoulder.

“Don’t,” he said. “Here.”

You rolled your eyes as best you could, but you let him tip the water carefully into your mouth.

After several agonizing minutes, you finally felt like you were sufficiently hydrated, and Din sat the cup back on the table. You stared at your reflection in his helmet. Kriff, you looked awful. Maybe it was helmet warping your reflection, but you looked sallow, and quite a bit paler than usual. You had heavy bags under your eyes, and you realized how hungry you were.

“What happened?” you asked.

Din was motionless. “What do you remember?”

“Well,” you said, “I remember getting shot. That wasn’t great. Then you caught me, and that was all.” You didn’t mention the time you had heard him saying your name in that awful, broken voice.

The blaster wound in your side throbbed and you arched your back, which only made it worse.

“Kriff,” you seethed. “This sucks.”

“The medic droid decided you were well enough to reduce the dosage of medicine,” Din said.

“So how long was I out for?” you asked, gritting your teeth to keep the pain at bay.

Din responded, “Close to a week. The medic droid said you shouldn’t have survived.”

You stared at him. You were supposed to be dead. It was surreal.

“Thank you,” you said.

Din lifted his head. “Why?”

“For staying with me.”

“I thought you said you couldn’t remember anything else.”

You were too tired and in too pain to even blush. You rolled to face the ceiling and said, “I can’t. I could just tell you were there.” Your wound throbbed and you clutched the gauze wrapping, curling in on yourself.

Din stood and put a hand on yours, and said, “I’ll be right back, I promise. I’m going to get the medic nurse.”

You grabbed his hand weakly. “No,” you said through the pain. “Please stay.”

He tilted his head, then sat back down.

You let out a breath, the pain subsiding, and relaxed as best you could. You realized that you were still holding Din’s gloved hand, but you didn’t want to let go. So you didn’t, and Din didn’t move his hand away.

…

After a few weeks laying in the small makeshift infirmary, with periodic visits from Cara and Magistrate Karga, you were healed enough from the blaster wound that the medic droid gave Din permission to move you onto the Razor Crest.

“Ready?” he asked before picking you up. You nodded, and sucked in a deep breath as he lifted you from the bed. Your wound was painful, but not nearly as bad as it had been when you had first awoken. The medic droid really knew what it was doing. Din had even refrained from commenting about a droid tending to you—you guessed he had only put aside his hatred for droids to make sure you were safe. You still didn’t think you’d been getting one on the Razor Crest any time soon.

Din walked out of the building with you in his arms, and when the sun hit your eyes, you lifted a hand to block it. Din readjusted you in his arms so that his body blocked the sunshine from shining on your face.

You had just woken up from a night of deep sleep, but were awake enough to be self-conscious as people stared at the two of you as Din walked across town with you in his arms like you weighed nothing.

Cara and the Magistrate were waiting at the Razor Crest, and Cara smiled at you as Din brought you aboard. He laid you in the sleeping quarters behind the small hammock, and when he left briefly to speak with Karga, Cara came in the ship and sat at the foot of the sleeping quarters.

You managed to prop yourself up on the back wall, much to Din’s chagrin, you were sure, but he wasn’t looking, so no chastisement came your way.

“Thanks for saving us back there,” Cara said. “That order you got out to the other ships stopped the fire immediately. The Magistrate and I were able to take the Imperial troopers and officers prisoner and turn them into the New Republic. Teniel and his crew took off a few weeks ago, going to start a new life on a safe planet elsewhere in the Outer Rim.”

You sighed, relieved. You hadn’t asked about the order you’d punched into the control board, but you had silently hoped it had worked.

“No problem,” you said, and Cara laughed.

“If you insist,” she responded, gesturing at the gauze wrapped around your waist contradicting your statement.

You managed to laugh without it hurting too bad and said, “It was nice meeting you, Marshal. I hope our paths cross again.” Although any romantic feelings for her had faded weeks ago, you were sincere. She was a good person to have watching your back.

“You too, Y/N. Goodbye, for now.” Cara stood, and after giving you a smile, turned and left the ship, passing Din as he entered. After Cara and Karga had safely disembarked, the hatch hissed shut.

Din glanced at you and said, “I’ll be back down after I get us off the ground.”

“Sounds good,” you said, and leaned back on the wall. Finally, you were home on the Razor Crest once more.

…

That feeling didn’t last long. After three days sitting in the small sleeping space, you were feeling well enough to carefully walk around the lower hold of the Razor Crest. Yes, your side hurt, but at this point, it was more of an annoyance than anything else. You’d been bedridden for far too long. It was getting frustrating, and any pain that came from the wound was worth the time you spent walking around.

To pass the time, you had been checking various panels and systems around the ship to make sure they were in top shape. This time, you were inspecting a slightly dented wire cover. You, wedged behind the carbonite freezing system, tripped on something hidden in the shadow that had probably belonged to one of Din’s previous bounties that had fallen behind the system when they were frozen in it. Although you caught yourself with your hands when you fell, you still felt one of the stitches on your still-healing wound rip under your bandaging.

You sighed and sucked in a breath. The pain was familiar at this point, and although it wasn’t the best feeling in the galaxy, you were able to ignore it.

You continued to inspect the wire cover until you felt the ship land, and when you tried to move back to the sleeping area, you found that you were actually stuck behind the carbonite system. Trying to squeeze out of the small space you had entered through was too painful with the ripped stitch. You hadn’t wanted to make too much noise using the control panel to bring the system further away from the wall, so you had managed to fit in the small space between it and the wall. As you continued to try to get out of the tight space, blood began to stain the outer layer of your bandaging, and you knew then that you had ripped another stitch, possibly two.

When you heard Din’s boots coming down the ladder, you started to panic. You didn’t want him to worry about you, and you knew that when he saw the empty bed, he wouldn’t be too happy.

“Y/N?” he said, concern in his voice, and although you couldn’t see him, you knew he had discovered the empty space.

“Kriff,” you muttered, then, embarrassed, called out, “I’m back here, Din.”

“Where?”

You rolled your eyes. “Behind the carbonite freezing system.”

A button beeped, and the system moved slowly away from the wall. You were able to walk out into the open, where Din stood, without any issue, finger on the button of the control panel that pulled out the system.

Instead of a lecture, like you had expected, and although you were standing fine on your own, Din quickly stepped to you and held you in his arms. You blushed and asked, “What’s this?”

“You’re bleeding,” he said, and you were disappointed. You thought that maybe he’d been, Maker forbid, giving you a hug, like a concerned friend.

“Yeah, I know,” you said. “I busted a couple stitches back there.”

Din held you at arm’s length, and judging on the way his helmet moved, he was looking you up and down for any further injuries.

“Y/N, you need—”

You cut him off. “To be more careful, I know.” You sighed and put your hands on his arms, definitely not thinking about the corded muscles under the leather shirt. “Din, I feel like a prisoner on this ship. Let’s land somewhere, get out for a walk, just to be out in the fresh air.”

Din was quiet for a moment, then he said, “Alright. But I’m coming with you.”

A smile took over your face, and you said, “Finally,” with a hint of laughter in your voice.

He chuckled, and you, after only a brief thought, hugged him, for real.

He was surprised, then wrapped his arms around you.

You flushed again. Why were you so prone to that around him?

You pulled away from him, and he said, “Get your boots and shawl on. Once we land and fuel up, I’ll take you somewhere nice.” He started up the ladder, then looked back down and said, “And change your gauze. We’ll get a medic to fix your stitches wherever we land.”

He quickly ascended the ladder up to the cockpit. With a small smile, you pulled on your leather boots, at this point worn soft, and your warm shawl.

As Din brought the ship out of hyperspace, you peeled the bloody gauze off your torso. Your wound had already started to create a thick scab, and the ripped stitches had torn the edge of it off. The urge to rip the rest of the scab off was powerful, but you knew it would harm you far more than the satisfaction was worth.

With a sigh, you replaced your gauze. You were tired of being in pain constantly. Maybe you’d find a nurse droid on this planet who had some healing spray. You were healed enough that it should work. When you’d had a great big hole blown through you, the healing spray would have done little to help. As it was, you’d have a massive scar from the wound.

Din jumped down the ladder, making you start and quickly pull your shirt down over your torso. Din quickly turned away from you and opened the hatch, clearly having expected you to be done wrapping your gauze and ready to go, instead of having your shirt half-way off. You blushed what you were sure was a deep red and busied yourself with futilely straightening a blanket in the sleeping quarters. The hatch opened and Din walked briskly out onto the planet’s surface. 

You took a deep breath, pushing away your embarrassment, and with excitement coursing through you, walked down the hatch and stepped outside for the first time in nearly a week. You thought briefly about your rucksack back in the ship, but put it away from your mind. It didn’t matter. Not right now.

You were on a jungle planet, the name of which you did not know, with beautiful trees towering around the fenced-in space port you had landed in. Din was paying for fuel and for someone to watch the ship while the two of you were gone. You walked over to him with only the smallest of embarrassed smiles. There were obvious hints in your walk that you were injured, and you gritted your teeth. You didn’t want anyone here thinking you were weak.

Din turned as you approached and asked quietly, “Are you sure you’ll be okay?”

You nodded, and you and Din thanked the young lad who was employed at the space port to watch the ships.

Din held his arm out to you and you took it. It was humid on this planet, and the cool metal of his armor was quite a contrast to the warm air. But it was nice, you thought to yourself. And it was gentlemanly of Din to offer his arm in such a way. You smiled to yourself.

The two of you exited the space port into a city that was built into the massive jungle trees. Whether it was doors in the trunks of the trees with signs over then proclaiming the name of the shop or high-above tree homes, the city was alive, built into the very essence of the planet.

“Din,” you breathed. “This is beautiful.”

He laughed that quiet, gorgeous laugh of his, but didn’t say anything. You stared in awe as he led you through the city, all pain forgotten. People waved from their walks past you on the beaten forest paths. You waved back, as if in a trance. Nobody even really stared at Din in his Beskar. It was the most perfect place you’d ever been.

After an hour of walking through the city—and you silently pushing aside your pain—Din led you to the outer rim of the forest, and you found yourself, after a few minutes’ walk, on the edge of a cliff, looking out at the bluest ocean imaginable. It took your breath away and your pain faded for a moment as you stared out at the ocean.

“I brought food,” Din said, and led you to sit on the soft, if slightly damp grass.

You stared out at the sea as Din pulled a few rations out from his satchel. He handed you some of the dried jerky, and sat next to you. The two of you sat in peaceful quiet, unfamiliar bird calls from the forest behind you complementing the sound of the crashing waves below.

You both finished your rations, but still didn’t speak. Birds swooped over the sea, grabbing fish from below the surface. Near the horizon, a huge sea creature surfaced briefly, only to dip down under the waves once more. You found yourself wondering what it would be like to swim in the water, imagining the cool of it cleaning away any dirt on you.

Maybe after you got a healing spray you would go swimming.

“Din,” you said quietly, breaking the silence.

He didn’t move, but you knew he was listening.

“Can we go back to town to find a nurse droid? Maybe I can get this wound sealed up once and for all.”

Din stood and offered his hand to you. You let him help you up, and he again offered his arm to you.

Maybe you should get hurt more often, you thought with a silent laugh. This new behavior from your Mandalorian was nice.

As you walked into the city, you gathered your courage and asked, “I don’t want to violate ‘The Way,’ but I am curious… what color are your eyes?”

Din looked down at you, and you immediately remedied, “I was just curious; it’s fine if you don’t—”

“Brown.”

You went quiet, then realized you were staring at him, so you looked away. He hadn’t sounded upset when he said it. And now you knew. He had brown eyes.

Din Djarin, your mysterious companion, was becoming far more of a friend than you had ever hoped.

…

You found a nurse droid equipped with healing spray, and to your relief, it was a reasonable amount of credits to get your side fixed up.

You sat nervously as you unwrapped your gauze, and, as you suspected from the ever-growing pain as you had been walking with Din, you had broken another stitch.

Din, who was seated across the room, looked sharply at you when he saw the blood and broken stitches. You smiled as innocently as you could—it came out as more of a grimace than anything else—and he shook his head. This was a completely different circumstance from when he saw you halfway undressed on the ship. This was bloody and painful, not unexpected and embarrassing.

“Please sit still,” instructed the droid in its robotic voice, and you tried not to flinch when the freezing cold salve hit your skin. Once the cold of it faded, however, the relief it brought to your aching wound was immeasurable.

You sighed contentedly when the droid finished up, then as you closed your eyes in pain-free bliss, the droid said, “No swimming for 24 hours.”

“What?” You opened your eyes and quickly pulled your shirt over your torso. You would inspect the scar later, when Din wasn’t around.

“It would negate the effects of the healing spray,” the droid said emotionlessly. “The high salt concentration of the water would—”

“She gets it,” Din interrupted, and you hopped off the med table, leaving the bloody bandages on the med table.

“Thanks!” you called, relieved to be back to your normal, peppy self, and the droid ignored you.

The human at the front of the infirmary waved goodbye and you smiled at her. It felt good to walk without the constant, deep pain your injury had brought.

You skipped ahead of Din, feeling rejuvenated, and then waited for him to catch up.

“So, where to next?” you asked as the two of you wound your way through the trees, headed back to the space port. “Did you ever manage to track Bo-Katan?”

Din answered, “Good news. She didn’t deactivate the shuttle’s tracking beacon, so we were able to contact her. She turned off the beacon for everyone but us. She was headed to Mandalore, last we heard, but she keeps getting sidetracked avoiding Imperial forces trying to find Moff Gideon.”

“Should be easy to catch up to her, then. When we get there, can I finally learn how to use a blaster?” you asked. “Now that I’m well and whole again?”

Din laughed. “Still on that?”

“Yep!” you said happily. “I’m not going to stop bothering you until you teach me.”

You reached the space port and boarded the Razor Crest together.

“Don’t worry,” he promised. “I’ll teach you one day.”


	8. The Reckoning

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Get ready for some ~angst~

“So, Din,” you said, sitting in the co-pilot’s seat with your legs swung haphazardly over the arm of it. The Razor Crest was traveling through hyperspace, as it had been for almost a standard day. “What’s your favorite color?”

Din turned to you before going back to the controls. “Where is this coming from?” he asked.

You sighed and leaned back over the edge of your chair. “I just feel like I don’t know anything about you. Friends should know things about each other, you know.”

“How about you talk first?”

You rolled your eyes, but said, “Fine, fine. What do you want to know?”

He was quiet, an open invitation for you to say whatever you wanted.

You ran a hand through your hair. “Hm, well… I love the color yellow, although green is nice too. I love oranges… and in my entire life, I’ve never been in love, or had any sort of relationship.” You didn’t know where that fact about yourself came from, but it tumbled from your lips without warning.

Din took a moment to finish adjusting the controls, then he turned to you fully. He sighed and said, “You really want to know about me?”

You shifted in your chair to sit relatively normally, so you were mimicking his way of sitting, although you left one leg slung over the arm of the chair. “Of course, Din. Why else would I have asked in the first place?”

He chuckled, then said, “Well, green’s a good color, but blue is better.” He paused, then added, “I’ve never been in a relationship either. It was too much of a risk.”

“What do you mean?” you asked, leaning forward, swinging your leg off the arm of the chair.

“Any person I could have ended up with would have had a target on their back,” Din said, calm despite the distressing words. “Both bounty hunters and the Empire wouldn’t have hesitated to use someone that meant that much to me against me.”

You both went quiet, and you found yourself wishing that you hadn’t brought it up in the first place. You felt funny, like your chest was compressing. You wondered why.

Breaking the silence, you stood and said with a fake yawn, “Well, I’m tired, so I’m going to go take a nap. Wake me when we get somewhere.”

Din nodded and turned back to the control board.

You slowly climbed down the ladder and holed up in the little bedroom, closing the door with a soft thud, which you almost never did. In the dark quiet of the room, you found yourself thinking about Din opening up to you on the jungle planet about his brown eyes.

Although you’d never seen them, you could almost picture them when you closed your eyes. You were sure they were kind and warm.

Kriff. You turned over and tried to shake thoughts of the Mandalorian from your mind. Why did he plague you so, in the still, solemn moments like these? It wasn’t like you were in love with the man.

Oh kriff, you realized. You were in love with Din.

Stunned, you stared into the darkness. How could you have not seen it before? All those times you blushed over stupid little things, your little seaside trip on the jungle planet, and the overwhelming relief you felt when you walked out of that Imperial ship on Nevarro and saw Din unharmed… it was all you falling for him.

The Razor Crest felt like home because of Din. In fact, anywhere felt like home when you were with him.

You laughed bitterly. Well kriff, you thought to yourself, what am I going to do now?

Memories from your past were resurfacing faster than you could push them away. “Don’t get close,” the memories whispered, building in intensity in your mind. “Don’t get attached. Don’t open yourself up.” The memories were painful, and you had worked so hard on forgetting them.

But there were some things that even time couldn’t erase. And three decades of teaching was a powerful influence. It had shaped you into who you were, despite how much you despised it.

You pressed your hands to your head to force the memories away.

“I need to leave,” you whispered, and a tear finally fell. Your teachers had been right. Nothing but pain and suffering ever came from falling in love. And now you would have to leave the only person who made you feel like home since you had lost yours so long ago.

…

It turned out that despite Peli Motto’s careful repairs those months ago, there was still a fuel leak in the old ship. The Razor Crest had to fuel up again, and you were going to take the opportunity of stopping to run, run far away from the Mandalorian who had stolen all sense of reason from you. You knew he didn’t return the feelings you had for him—how could he? And the revelation that he would never even consider a romantic relationship was a major blow to you.

Better to have learned it sooner rather than later, you thought dejectedly, holding your little rucksack in your lap while you sat behind the carbonite system. It was the one place Din couldn’t fit into, other than the generator room. But that was too close to the cockpit, and far too loud for your liking.

You leaned your head against the wall as you felt the ship exit hyperspace and land on whatever Outer Rim planet you were on now.

You took a deep breath. You could do this.

You shimmied out from your little hiding spot just as Din jumped down into the hold. He tilted his head and asked, “Haven’t you gotten stuck behind there before?”

You put on a smile that you hoped didn’t look as fake as it felt and responded, “Yeah, but I pulled the system out a little bit this time. No getting stuck for me.”

Din chuckled and said, “I’ll be refueling the ship.”

You nodded and said, “I’ll be out in a bit.”

He walked past you, ragged cape swishing. As soon as he was out of the ship, you climbed the ladder and entered the cockpit for the last time. You looked around, morosely surveying one of your favorite places in the galaxy, then pressed a single button on the control panel.

‘Where would you like to send a holo message?’ said a robotic voice.

“The Razor Crest,” you replied, and the system whirred for a moment. It was a new upgrade Peli Motto had put in. And now you were going to leave a message for Din on his own ship, to explain why you had disappeared.

‘Recorded message, beginning, now,’ said the comm system, and a bright light shone on you. You took a deep breath and began your message.

…

You sniffled as you wrapped your shawl around you and grabbed your rucksack, which was missing an item. Said item now laid on the control board of the Razor Crest, waiting for Din to find it. You hoped he would understand your message, and forgive you for taking the blaster he had given you.

You walked out of the Razor Crest, and thankfully, Din was busy paying a young lass to refuel the ship. You snuck around the back of the hangar, and after one last lingering look at your Mandalorian, slipped into the town outside the space port.

You would always treasure the thought of Din’s brown eyes, and wished you could have seen them just once.

…

Drinking deeply from your spiced caf, you watched people mill around the cantina around you. Couples were sitting together, lounging with their arms around each other. Friends laughed and jostled each other. You wanted to be bitter at their happiness, but you just felt a deep numbness, like there was a black hole in the middle of your chest.

“Are you sure you don’t want anything a bit stronger?” the bartender asked. You shook your head. Just spiced caf was perfect. It reminded you of Din.

Although it had only been yesterday that you had left the Razor Crest, it felt like an eternity. You had come immediately to the cantina and ordered a spiced caf, and to your surprise, Din had walked into the cantina not an hour later. You managed to hide in the refresher room until he left.

Of course he would suspect you of coming here. He knew you well, after all.

Or he thought he did. He surely hadn’t watched your message, or he never would have come looking for you.

After a sleepless night in a dingy room above the cantina, you had returned to the bustling atmosphere, unsure of what to do. Right now, all you wanted was to get over your feelings for Din, or possibly drown in them. You weren’t sure which sounded better.

You hadn’t seen Din today. You hadn’t looked, but you were sure the Razor Crest was far away by now, with Din on board, chasing down Bo-Katan and Moff Gideon. You only wished you could see the look on the Moff’s face when Din boarded the ship. You were sure his anger at the Moff would be a sight to see.

Maybe he would take his place as the king of Mandalore, now that he was alone once more.

You drank again from the spiced caf, remembering the first time you heard Din’s laugh, that day on Tatooine.

You just hoped that whatever Din did, wherever he went, that he was happy.

That way at least one of you could be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know it’s short—the next update will make up for it… hopefully hehe.
> 
> The next chapter, if you've been paying attention to the chapter titles, is the end of "Season One." I'm going to continue this story in a separate work, as a sort of "Season Two" to the series. I've planned that the chapters will be 2 or 3 times the length of the current chapters, and it will feature more characters we're all familiar with :) Hopefully you'll follow along! Can't wait for the finale next week :)


	9. Redemption

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :)

You walked into the empty cantina the next morning and just as quickly hid behind one of the pillars inside. At the bar was Din, holding the poor bartender by the front of their shirt. They were panicked, and for good reason.

Din spoke, and you heard in his voice an anger, with an undercurrent of fear that you had only heard once before—when you had been shot and he thought you were dead.

“I’ll ask one more time,” he said, “where is she?”

“I don’t know,” cried the bartender. “She was here yesterday, but I don’t know where she is now.”

You, despite every logical part of you screaming at you to stay hidden behind the pillar, stepped out into the room and raised your blaster.

“Let them go,” you said, and you were surprised how calm your voice was. “I’m right here.”

Din released the bartender, who scrambled away, and Din turned so suddenly that you almost squeezed the trigger of your blaster.

“Y/N?” His voice was so quiet and broken that you felt your heart, as shattered as it already was, break even more.

“Heya there, Mando,” you said, lowering your blaster, trying your best to stay casual.

“Why are you here?” you asked.

Complete and utter silence.

You sighed and you turned around to leave.

“The ship was empty without you.”

That simple sentence made the black hole in your chest grow even wider than you knew it was possible. 

But you kept a neutral face in spite of the growing distress within you.

“It was empty before I got there,” you said, and started to leave again.

“Wait,” Din called, “Y/N, wait!”

Your façade cracked just a little as his voice broke on your name. A tear fell from your eye and made a small circle in the dust under your feet.

“Why are you here, Din?” you asked, holding back a sob. “Are you here to fight me, to kill me, to turn me in to the Empire?”

“Why would I do that?” he asked, and you scoffed, turning sharply on one foot to face him.

“You know why,” you said, tears blurring your vision. “In the message I left for you, I told you who I really am. You finally know the real me.”

…

The holo message you had left for him had been heartfelt and painful to say. It divulged your past, the one you had been running from for so long. You figured that the Mandalorian deserved to know why you were deserting him.

So you had stood in front of the recording device, taken a deep breath, and said, “Din, I wanted to tell you why I’m leaving the Razor Crest. You have been an amazing friend, but I have ruined whatever trust has been built between us.”

You sighed and with a sad smile at the camera, had said, “I have broken all of my rules from a past life: don’t get attached, don’t make friends, and don’t fall in love.” At that point, a tear had fallen, and you quickly brushed it away. “I used to believe in those rules with every fiber of my being.

“Din, you need to know about my past.

“The reason I hid on Moff Gideon’s ship was because I was running from my past. I didn’t want what was laid out for me, and the lifestyle it entailed.”

You shook your head and with a dry laugh, said, “I’m stalling, aren’t I? I guess I was just hoping you would never find this out about me.

You paused, needing a moment to collect yourself.

“I was a Jedi.” The words rang in the empty air and you felt like you had been punched in the gut. The word ‘Jedi’ was so foriegn to you, yet left such a foul taste in your mouth that you may as well had been calling yourself a Rathtar.

In your hands was your rucksack which you had so preciously guarded from Din’s eyes until this point. You pulled open the drawstring top and slowly drew the tarnished steel weapon from inside it.

“I’m leaving my lightsaber on the control board, as proof, I guess. Maybe I just need to leave it behind.” You sighed, looking down. “I wanted to say that I’m sorry for not telling you before. I was scared, more scared than I’ve ever been. I thought that you would hate me because of it. But I know now that it doesn’t matter. At least this way, it should be easy for you to forget me.”

Tears had clouded your vision so badly that you couldn’t see the cockpit around you, just the bright light of the recorder pointed directly at you.

“Goodbye, Din,” you said through a desperate sob. “Thank you for showing me what home feels like.”

…

“A Jedi is worth a fortune of credits to the Empire,” you said, angrily dashing away tears. Din was motionless in the center of the cantina, and if you didn’t know any better, you would have thought that his body language was straining toward you. But you did know better. He was a Mandalorian. You used to be a Jedi, and as such, were now his enemy.

“Besides,” you said, “you know my two big secrets. My past, and my feelings for you. Everything would be different if I did return to the Razor Crest.”

You stared at him, waiting for a response, then threw your hands in the air.

“If you’re not going to say anything, then I’m leaving. For good.” You couldn’t take it anymore. Every part of you wanted to run to the stupid kriffing Mandalorian. But despite how much you wished you weren’t, you were still a Jedi. The Jedi were Mandalore’s enemy, and on top of that, the Jedi had taken The Child from Din. Why would he want one on his ship?

You turned, determined to leave the cantina and find a ride off this wretched planet.

“Y/N.”

He said it so quietly that you almost didn’t hear him.

But you paused in the door, although you refused to turn around. A tear rolled slowly down your cheek. Why did he have to make this so hard?

“I want things to be different.”

What?

You turned slowly, sure you misheard him.

“What did you say?” you asked, deathly quiet.

Din said, “I told you that I never wanted to be with anyone because it would put a target on their back.”

“I remember,” you said. The conversation was still fresh in your mind.

He chuckled. Why would he do that? You tried not to focus on how familiar, how warm his voice was. Falling in love was a kriffing mess, you decided.

Din shook his head. “It was true. But you… I know you can handle yourself.”

“Me?” You pressed your hands to your head. “Stop screwing with me. What are you saying?” Your heart was pounding. If he was saying what you thought he was saying, then… 

“You’re a Jedi,” Din said, and you cut him off.

“I didn’t want to be. That’s why I ran,” you said, anger coloring your voice.

Din just said, “We’re both running from something.”

“What?” you said, annoyed. You were tired; you wanted this conversation to be done. The conversation had turned back to your past, and that was the last thing you wanted to talk about.

He started to walk towards you. “The truth.” The space between you was rapidly becoming far too small, but you stood your ground.

Trying to stay aloof, you rolled your eyes. “Kriff, Mando.” Could this conversation be any more agonizing? His soft voice, his rapidly closing the space between the two of you… your heart was thumping so hard against your rib cage that you almost pressed a hand to your chest.

Din stopped, and he was so close you could see yourself in the reflection of his helmet. “I’m serious, Y/N. You’re running from your past, I’m running from mine. And we’re both running from our feelings.” He paused, looking down for a moment.

“What are you saying?” You meant to snap the words, but they came out soft, broken. Your anger was fading, revealing the heartache beneath it. Your reflection in his helmet looked scared.

“Din, please tell me what you’re thinking. I can’t read your mind,” you said when the silence became too much.

He closed the gap between you and took your hands in his.

“Y/N, stay with me. My feelings for you have grown too deep to be ignored any longer.”

Your mouth moved, but no sound came out. Never did you think that Din could possibly return your feelings for him. Certainly not like this.

You finally gasped out, “What?”

His gloved hands entirely encompassed yours. You wondered what his brown eyes looked like under his helmet. You imagined his brow was furrowed. Maybe there were tears; you didn’t know.

“When I saw you get shot on Nevarro, I thought the world had stopped turning,” he confessed. “Everything froze, and the only thought in my mind was to get to you.” His voice was deathly soft, thick with emotion, piercing you to your core. “I thought you were dead. Rushing you back to the town was all that mattered. I thought you were going to bleed out in my arms.”

One of you was shaking. Maybe it was both of you. You didn’t know.

“When I realized you weren’t on the ship, I realized that I should’ve told you weeks ago how I felt.” He shook his head. “It’s me who should be apologizing. I made you feel like you weren’t welcome on our ship.”

You felt as if you were floating and falling all at the same time. ‘Our’ ship.

Din raised his head and although you couldn’t see his eyes, you knew he was looking into yours.

“Please come home.”

You couldn’t help it—tears began to fall from your eyes, and then you stumbled forward into Din’s arms. He wrapped you safely in his arms and you miserably said through tears, “I shouldn’t have left. I made you worry.”

“I’ll always worry about you, Y/N,” he said, and held you tighter. “But I know you can handle anything the galaxy throws at you.”

…

You pulled away from Din’s embrace, and his gloved hand came up and gently wiped away your tears. It was unbelievable. You were in love with Din Djarin, and he felt the same way for you.

You laughed into his hand and he tilted his head curiously.

“I just can’t believe it,” you said, sniffing back more tears. “I made this a whole big deal for nothing.”

“You’re worth the trouble,” Din said, and you blushed.

His hand brushed over your flaming cheeks. It just made them more red, and he laughed quietly.

“Y/N, my blushing girl.”

The butterflies you felt were truly out of control at that point. You pressed your face into his hand to hide the blush, unsuccessfully of course.

“Come on, the ship is waiting for you,” Din said, and held out not his arm, but his hand for you to take.

With wide eyes, you looked from his visor to his outstretched hand. You tried not to tremble as you took it, but it was alright—Din was shaking too.

The glove was rough between your fingers, but Din squeezed your hand and everything else faded away. Your heart pounded as you left the cantina. What had seemed impossible 24 hours ago was real.

It seemed the galaxy didn’t have it out for you after all.

…

You walked into the Razor Crest and something that had been misaligned deep inside you settled into place. You were home.

Din came up behind you and put a hand on your back. You froze for a moment at the unfamiliar touch, then relaxed into it. You set down your rucksack, which you had retrieved from your room above the cantina, and pulled Din into a hug. You were nervous about this new dynamic between the two of you, but it was also exciting. You could finally be yourself with him, no hidden past, no repressed feelings. You had walked hand in hand back to the ship, through the town. It had felt strange, but welcome. He was truly yours.

“Come on, Y/N,” he said, the hatch closing with a hiss behind the two of you. “We’ve got a Moff to find.”

You smiled. Yeah, you thought to yourself, this was going to be a fun trip.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hopefully this makes up for the last chapter haha, even though there was no kissing or helmet removal (yet). Hey now, I didn’t label it a slow burn for no reason, now did I?
> 
> Callback to the end of Chapter One with that last line, babeyy

**Author's Note:**

> So... this is the end of "Season One." However, I'm going to continue this story in a separate work (part two of this series), as a sort of "Season Two" to the series. I've planned that the chapters will be 2 or 3 times the length of the current chapters, and it will feature more characters we're all familiar with from the TV show :) Thank you for reading The Stowaway, and hopefully you'll follow along as Y/N and Din's adventures continue!


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